May to December
by Lady Aoi
Summary: Hojo has a new project in mind, and it involves Elena. Pairings: Elena/Hojo and Hojo/Scarlet. Rated for language, violence, adult situations. Chapter 5 is here! Sorry for the wait, folks. Disc problems.
1. Elena: A Damsel in Distress

May to December  
A FF7 Fan Fic  
by  
Lady Aoi  
  
Summary: Elena has a lot to think about regarding a certain professor...  
Pairing: You read that right, kids. Elena/Hojo. Old Hojo.   
Rating: Rated PG-13 now but will be R for Angst, sexuality, language, Turkiness  
Disclaimer: The lovely Elena and the awesome Hojo are owned by Square Soft. So are Reno, Rude, Tseng, Scarlet, Heidegger and anyone else who wanders into this fic. Don't sue me. Someday I wanna own my very own PS2 so I can buy more of your games...  
Lady Aoi's Notes: Uh... yeah. For the record, I don't like fan pairings. I don't like reading fan fiction based on a couple who don't have a snowball's chance in hell because they don't really interact in the game/series/what have you. But everyone is a hypocrite sometimes, I guess. Basically, the Elena muse and the Hojo muse are both responsible for this story. They both really wanted it, and I really wanted to give it to them. And who knows? Considering that Hojo is something of a ladies man (*koff koff* Costa del Sol), maybe this isn't so improbable. "May to December" is also my first published FF7 fic, and one that I have written while still on disc one. Thus, patience and respect when reviewing and providing criticism are even more appreciated than usual. Enjoy!  
  
~*~  
  
They say that every little girl falls in love with and eventually marries her father. Well, okay. Not her father, really but... you know. Someone like her father. Blah. Oh, I'm getting all muddled again! Crap! Okay, okay, let me start over... um... when I was about eight or nine or so, my step mom used to subscribe to this magazine. You know the type; magazines with names like 'Glamour!' or 'Trendsetter'. They have all these articles about relationships and beauty tips and things? Well, anyway, my father and step mom used to fight a lot, so when they'd start in, I'd just go lock myself in the bathroom, and there'd be this huge stack of magazines by the toilet. So if I know a lot about make up and guys, it's not because I'm some airhead that can't think about anything else. I just had to do something to keep from hearing them... and believe me, 'Twelve Secrets to Drive Him Wild in Bed' isn't enough to make you ignore the sound of a chair leg cracking someone's head open. And you never remember all the different shades of eyeshadow as clearly as you remember that red stain in the middle of the white carpet in your living room -- the one he was probably hitting her for not vacuuming right. And all those models' blinding smiles... try watching a bunch of detectives take pictures of the dead body and guess what? Even stars won't seem bright to you again.  
  
Yeah, I think I've had more to think about then guys and make up.   
  
And I would never, ever, ever fall in love with a man like my father. I admit I get muddled a lot, and sometimes I don't understand everything, but I'm not a masoch--massa-- I'm not an idiot, okay? Reno says I am sometimes, but Reno's an ass. He's like a dorky, perverted little brother that's always trying to take pictures of you when you're in the shower or something. So I love him and all, but I know better than to listen to everything he says. Just like I know better then to tell him about any guys I may be seeing. I mean, I just turned twenty-four last month, and they just made me a Turk, for heck's sake! So I don't need Reno to take out any guys that treat me bad, 'cause I can take care of myself, thank you.   
  
There's one guy I can't take out, though. In fact, none of us can. That's our boss, General Heidegger. I like my job and all, but I really hate him. He's fat, and ugly, and stupid, and worse, he hits everyone he can. All the time. If you're a soldier, or a cadet, or even if you're a Turk, he'll hit you. Reno says it's because he has PMS, and Rude always laughs at that, but they're just being dumb. PMS is heaven compared to three minutes in the same room with that braying psycho. Now, if I really wanted to fall in love with a guy like my father, I'd fall for someone like Heidegger... and then I'd tell Reno to commit me. Ugh!!   
  
Well, as gross as Heidegger is, I guess this story really starts with him, four years ago. I'd only been twenty for a few days, and a cadet for even less days, when I had my first run-in with him. See, one of the things you do as a cadet is weapons maintenance. You have to learn how to clean, deconstruct and store every single weapon you'll probably ever use, which is a lot. And on this particular day, President Shinra was having some big parade through Midgard to celebrate his fortieth anniversary or something. So, they'd assigned me and three other cadets to carry the riffles we were gonna march with up from the shipping dock to a big storehouse for distribution on floor twenty-three. Only my partners never showed up. So there I was, on floor CC (that's three floors below the *basement*!), with 150 riffles to transport in less than forty minutes... and cadets weren't allowed to use elevators. Well, I panicked a little... okay, I panicked a lot, and ended up overloading myself with about six of the things. And on my fourth trip up the stairs, the one on the bottom started slipping and... before I could catch it, I dropped the entire stack of them. I guess I started panicking even more then, because I just could not pick them up without dropping them again. Oh, and the fact that Heidegger's heavy footsteps and his "Gyahahahaahaha!" were getting closer and closer every second only made things worse. Before I knew it, all 900 pounds and three and a half feet of him rounded the corner... just as my pile of guns went crashing to the floor for the fifth or sixth time.  
  
"Uh oh." Yeah, yeah. I know. Just like a little kid with her hand in the cookie jar. But I just *know* I said "Uh oh" just about three seconds before Heidegger's face went from shocked to severely pissed off.   
  
"Ahh! What the hell do you think you're doing, cadet?!?" he screamed as he ran towards me.  
  
Yeah, I was scared. Scared enough to crap myself! Reno and Rude were already well on their way to being full-fledged Turks by the time I joined Shinra's army. So, every time they had a day off, they'd sit down with me over drinks and tell me all these stories about General Heidegger. About how he drank like a fish. About how he liked hitting people that messed up. About how he liked beating people that didn't do anything wrong just for the hell of it, whether drunk or not. So, yeah, I had every reason to be scared of this guy. But still, I managed to stand up straight and salute like I'd been taught as he charged towards me. "Sir! Carrying these riffles up to the twenty-third flo--"  
  
I didn't even get the full sentence out before my head got turned to the side by one of his ham-handed punches. I was really scared now, so I forgot the advice Reno gave me. That is, to just stand there and not move when Heidegger hit you. And I think the fact that I raised my hand to my cheek to see if he'd broken anything just pissed him off even more.  
  
"Where the hell's the rest of you?!"  
  
"S--sir?!"  
  
"This is a four man job, cadet! Why's there only one man on it?!"  
  
"I dunno, sir! No one else showed up to help me and --"  
  
I shoulda known he wouldn't want to hear it. He let me know that by punching me in the face again.  
  
"This is delicate equipment, cadet! Where the hell is your help?!"  
  
"I dunno sir! I really dunno!" And I didn't! What the fuck was his problem, anyway?!   
  
"I dunno, sir!" he mimicked as he snatched a riffle from the floor. "Well, if you don't know how delicate it is, maybe I should show you. You don't carry guns three, four, and certainly not six at a time. You don't drop them on the floor. And you never, ever use them like this!"  
  
I couldn't even cry out as the rifle's butt hit me right in the side. I definitely heard two crunches. The first as the butt connected with my ribs and the second as my ankle struck another riffle on my way to the floor.  
  
"Or like this!" Smash! Against my back, knocking what was left of the wind out of me. "Or this!" Smash! Against my left leg. "Or this!" Smash! Against my waist.   
  
"Sir..." I managed to choke out as I pulled myself into a ball. My nose hurt, my back hurt, and I knew I was bruised and bleeding in a lot of places. And then... it's true what they say. My life really *did* flash before me. I saw Melinda -- my real mom -- singing me to sleep. Then I saw that time Reno and me ran away and lived for five and a half days in a scrap pile in Wall Market before we got really hungry and went home. And finally, everything dissolved into the living room, with its white carpet and that huge red stain. The cameras were going off, and the room was getting brighter, but somehow the stain was only getting darker. I couldn't feel my legs. I couldn't do anything but lie there and try to cover my head. Oh, it didn't really hurt anymore, but it wasn't okay. I knew this maniac was gonna beat me to death and nobody would stop him. The only difference would be that this time, he'd be using a gun instead of a chair leg. Everything but the stain was getting so bright it hurt to look at, then. So I just closed my eyes and waited for him to smash my skull in.  
  
Well, he never did. I mean, duh! The next thing I know, someone yells Heidegger's name. I guess it startled even him, because he stopped hitting me long enough to growl "Stay out of this, Hojo! This has nothing to do with you!"  
  
Hojo... I was a bit too out of it to place the name right then. I was a bit too out of it to really listen, actually. Nevertheless...  
  
"That may be, general, but your carrying on is proving to be quite the distraction. I'd wager technicians can hear your bellowing from here to the twenty-fifth floor." the new voice said. I remember thinking this guy was pretty ballsy to take on someone like Heidegger... and pretty accurate, too. You really could hear Heidegger bellowing floors and floors below you. That's part of why everyone was afraid of him. His bark really was just as bad as his bite.  
  
"That so?" Heidegger snapped.   
  
"Indeed. Now, why don't you go make yourself useful by screaming at and/or beating up the cadets who are presumably taking your lead and pestering some of my workers, hmm?"  
  
"What the --?!"  
  
"Yes, that's right. I hardly think you can effectively prepare for this parade with a dozen of your own cadets drunkenly wandering around the laboratory on the forty-first floor, but that's just my humble opinion. Now, President Shinra, on the other hand, might see things in a somewhat different light...yes, you have a nice day, too!"   
  
It took me a moment to realize that Heidegger's heavy footsteps and swearing were actually running away from me and vanishing somewhere down the hallway. For a second, I think I actually relaxed. I wasn't gonna die. This nice guy named Hojo had actually saved me, and --  
  
And then I remembered who this guy named Hojo actually was.  
  
Three months ago, when I'd first applied to join the Shinra Army, Rude, Reno and me went to our favorite watering hole in Sector Eight: The Mog and Chocobo. Stupid name for a bar, huh? But damn, do they have great vodka! Well, the guys and me got a little more tanked up that night than usual, and we'd started discussing work. Specifically their work, since I was still working as a stock room girl in Wall Market at the time. Anyway, they were talking about the Shinra brass in some very unflattering terms. That was the night I learned about Heidegger. That was also the night I learned that Palmer routinely showed up to meeting stoned and Reeve was having an affair with President Shinra's son Rufus. The boys apparently had an older Turk friend named Tseng who was in the know and told them things. Sometimes the things he told them were even true. In fact, Reno assured me as he ordered us our eighth or ninth round that night, the dirt Tseng had on Professor Simon Hojo, the head of Shinra's Science Program was flat-out incontestably true. Well, he'd said "inconteschtabibily" but we all knew what he was talking about.   
  
When I told Reno to quit messing around and spill his guts already, he gave me this silly little look and then launched into a weird half-hour story. Apparently, nobody really knew that much about the professor, except that he was a loner, a double Ph.D. and a Gemini. Oh yeah. And he was also a dirty old lech who liked performing experiments on girls after seducing them. At the time I'd just thought Reno was talking out of his ass like he usually does. But three months later and laying half conscious and bleeding in a hallway... yeah, I was a bit worried.  
  
Well, make that *really* worried now because Simon Hojo had his hand on my shoulder and was currently stroking it while asking if I could move. I remember moaning and trying to pull away from him. I mean, who knew what he was gonna try! And wasn't it just my luck to get rescued from one maniac by another? Before passing out completely, I decided that god must have been laughing at me. And that, if god had been laughing at me within striking distance, I would have kicked him in his holy balls, regardless of not being able to feel my legs.  
  
~*~  
  
My memory's a bit fuzzy for awhile after that. I remember someone picking me up and putting me on a firm bed that smelled like formaldehyde and a blonde woman telling me to try and stay awake as the bed got picked up off the ground. I remember the fluorescent lights above winking past me like ghosts. I remember Reno petting my hair and telling me in a small, faraway voice that if I died on him, he'd kill me. Bits and pieces like that. And then, I don't remember anything but vague gray for a very, very long time.  
  
When the gray finally lifts, I'm lying on my back in a sea of white, bleachy sheets. The bright overhead light fools me at first, and for a moment I think I'm in heaven or... at least somewhere that isn't too hot or uncomfortable. And just as I'm beginning to regret that thought about kicking god in his holy balls, a woman in a white dress with her hair tucked neatly under a white cap leans into my view. She laughs when I ask if she's an angel. No, dear, she says. She was a nurse and I was in a Shinra medical unit. Apparently I'd been sleeping for a month!   
  
"A month?" I ask. "Huh?" And just as the whole shitty mess begins coming back to me, the door in front of me bursts open and three laughing, jostling guys come pouring in. True to form, they all ignore the nurse and her protest that 'this is a hospital, not a Turk kegger, gentlemen!' and rush to my side. Rude fails to keep up the tough guy schtick for once and actually gives me a smile and a "you had me worried there, 'Lena". Reno, on the other hand has to be physically restrained from hugging and/or hitting me while sobbing and screaming at the top of his lungs that I'd better not scare him like that again or else. Somehow in the middle of all this noise Tseng gets introduced. The quiet, older Turk with the dark hair just smiles and slides a bouquet of long stem white roses onto my lap with an 'it's nice to meet you, Elena'. And I'm instantly in love. Reno notices this and threatens to bash Tseng in the stomach because "she just woke up and you're already making her blush, jackass!" And although I'm happy to see them all, Reno's screaming and Rude's yelling "shut the fuck up, Reno!" every five seconds is really beginning to get to me. Apparently the nurse notices this, because ten Turks show up and drag the guys out of the room a few moments later. When I can hear her again over Reno and Rude's call and answer of "motherfuckers!" and "shut the fuck up, Reno!", the nurse just shakes her head.  
  
"I'm sorry you had to put up with them, Cadet Marshall."  
  
"Oh, it's okay," I try to give her a reassuring smile. It kind of hurts to smile, though. "They're my friends. We grew up together -- well Reno and Rude and me did -- and I'm used to it by now. They're just noisy like that all the time, so it's no bother."  
  
"Be that as it may, you still need your rest, young lady. You have some nasty injuries, but they're healing well, and we're all confident that you'll make a full recovery. But not if you don't take care of yourself. You understand?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am." And after getting my solemn word that I'd be a good girl and take a nap, the nurse left me to cuddle up in the starchy sheets and rest. And it seemed she was right about my wounds. I could feel my legs again, but they sure did ache, and the less said about my back and face, the better. I could tell they were both puffy and swollen. I was also able to turn my head far enough right to see that my arm was in a large bulky cast...   
  
Which Rude, Reno and Tseng had just signed. In Reno's case with a dirty limerick. As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but chuckle. Those guys. What would they think of next?  
  
~*~  
  
I don't think I'd been out for too long before... hm. It's hard to say. You know how sometimes you feel weird and you turn around to find that there's someone behind you? Someone you didn't exactly see or touch but you just knew they were there? Well, whatever it is, I just remember getting this weird feeling that someone was close by. No, that someone was close by *and* looking at me! And as sick as I was, my eyes still flew right open as I gasped.  
  
Sure enough, I was looking right up into some strange guy's face. At first I thought it was Tseng, but when I blinked the goop out of my eyes, I realized this guy was much, much older. But I could only tell that from the way he was sitting. His shoulders were a little hunched over, and not just in the normal way people hunch them when they're leaning close to look at something. No, he was hunching because of his age, which didn't really show up in his face or hair. I mean, he definitely had a receding hairline, but I could only make out a few gray strands here and there in his long dark ponytail and bangs. No, not bangs... fly aways. The guy actually had fly aways like some messy slum kid! They swept upwards toward his skullcap and then rushed downward to frame his temples and cheeks. The weird thing was, his face really didn't look that old either. He had a few laugh lines here and there, but mainly his face just looked pale and undernourished, like he'd been sitting under bright lights drinking coffee and straining his eyes for a few too many nights without sleep. And his eyes... I've seen Soldiers' eyes. They're always this deep, near-fluorescent green because of the mako they're exposed to. But there's always something fake about that color. Like some kid had taken a paintbrush to them. But these eyes weren't green like that at all. They were a deep, dark green -- the color of the pine trees in Reno's picture book, the one we used to look at when we were learning our alphabet. If I hadn't looked so closely, I would have sworn they were black.  
  
Apparently I was staring. I mean, I had to have been, or I wouldn't have noticed the color of his eyes, especially beneath his elegant silver-rimmed spectacles. He gave me a little smile then and said: "Well, it looks like you're awake."  
  
"I guess so." Huh. That was a stupid thing to say, I guess. But I was half asleep and this weird guy was just sitting there, so... "Uhm..."  
  
But he finished my thought. "You're wondering who in the hell I am and what I'm doing here."  
  
"Uh..." Yeah. "Yeah." Man, did he just read my mind or something?  
  
"Forgive my rudeness." Uh.. okay, forgiven, I guess. "I was informed you'd awakened from your coma early this morning and I wanted to see you for myself."  
  
"Okay...." I still have no idea where Mr. Mysterioso is going with this...  
  
"I brought you some flowers. Don't worry. I checked your profile and chose something appropriate. That is, something that won't have any adverse effects on your recovery. It seems," he continues when I just stare at him, "that you have some fairly severe allergies. And having grown up in Midgard where flowers are, indeed, a rarity, the last thing I wanted to do was tax your immune system any more than it already has been."  
  
My immune system? Huh? Flowers? "How did you know all that?" I ask him. "Like, about my allergies and where I grew up and stuff?"  
  
"Hm? Oh, I simply checked your medical files," I blink. Say what?! How in the hell...  
  
"Uh... don't you have to have proper clearance to do that?"  
  
He looks as if he's about to laugh. "Proper secu--" and then he actually does. It's a reedy sounding chuckle. "Hehe. Oh, don't worry, Ms. Marshall. I can assure you that, indeed, I went through all proper channels to view your file. Hehe."  
  
The giggle is a bit unnerving. "Well, okay, but I still don't know your name or anything."  
  
But he's already standing and walking over to my night stand. I have to turn my head a little to see what he's doing. He's now standing there lightly stroking a red rose. One red rose among eleven others in a tall glass vase. I blink. Funny, I thought Tseng brought white ones. And it's then that I see their little white tops peeking over the cluster of red. Red and white... ugh....  
  
"Ms. Marshall, is something the matter?" Instantly, the guy is looking at me again, his hand moving towards my forehead.  
  
"No, no that's fine! It's just..." He looks at me with a mixture of puzzlement and concern, and then I realize how silly I'm being. I can't go through my whole life avoiding red and white things. Especially not flowers. And not flowers that two nice guys brought me as get well gifts.  
  
"...It's nothing," I tell him after taking a moment to clear my mind of those awful pictures of carpets and blood. "I'm just a little surprised is all. They're really nice. Thank you."  
  
He nods. "Well, I'm happy you like them, Ms. Marshall. I'm also happy to inform you of your extraordinary fortune." He sits down again and scoots his chair a little closer to my bed. "I began seeing to most of your injuries the moment Heidegger left. While I was able to help the worst of them, I was, sadly, unable to do much for your right arm. Even with the materia these ridiculous witch doctors insisted upon treating you with, your arm is probably going to give you some trouble for a little while. Be thankful, though. It staved off some very nasty blows that were intended for your skull simply because you had the good sense to cover your head." He doesn't acknowledge the fact I'm currently blinking like a fish and just continues. "The extent of your injuries was such that your body decided to shut down for a little while in order to repair them. And although we did have you on life support, I was confident it was only a matter of time before you would awaken."  
  
"Oh." That's about all I can say, too. This guy treated me on the scene? But how could that be possible, unless he was right there when Heidegger was beating me? And if I remember right, only one other guy was there. And that guy was....  
  
....  
  
I can feel his eyes following mine as I look towards his name tag. A somewhat younger picture of the guy before me stares unsmilingly back. And next to that is a name.  
  
Prof. S. Hojo.  
  
Hojo....  
  
"Eee."  
  
"Eee?" His fly aways fall across his eyes as he tilts his head to follow my gaze. "Well, yes, I do need to get a new picture, but I was pleased with this one so --" He pauses for a moment and then raises his head to look into my eyes again. He's not smiling anymore.  
  
"But that isn't the problem, I take it."  
  
I'm a little too freaked out to answer correctly. Ieee. Professor Hojo! The guy that likes spying on girls in the shower! The guy that does weird experiments on cadets he -- the guy who brings them red roses first! Oh my god, I have to get out of --  
  
And he's just laughing. He's giggling, in fact. Giggling! Giggling like some mad scientist. Like the mad scientist who freezes girls in his freezer that I know he is! I just like there and think, oh shit. Oh shit shit shit shit shit.  
  
And then, as abruptly as the giggle starts, it dies down, and again he's looking at me with that weird, calm look. "Elena," he says after a moment. "Why are you looking at me as if I were about to attack you?"  
  
In response, I just giggle back. "Looking at you like you were -- oh, professor! Don't be so silly! Hahahahahaha!" Oh shit oh shit ohshitohshitohshitshitshitshitshit...!!  
  
He closes his eyes and leans his head, mouth first, into his left fist. "Elena," he says after a moment. "I don't know what particular brand of 'Professor Hojo is an Evil, Sadistic Bastard' stories the Turks are telling you cadets as of late, but I can assure you that many of them are lies. Typical products of some drunken Turk's lust for bawdy storytelling."  
  
It flies out of my mouth before I can think. "So you don't experiment on girls?"  
  
He looks at me as if I had just turned into a ten foot tall dancing mog. And then his entire face lights up as he begins giggling uncontrollably. "Heheheeheheh! Oh my, that is certainly the funniest and longest-lived rumor at Shinra, Inc... with the exception of Palmer's having an affair with Rufus... or was it Heidegger? There really are too many variants of that particular story."   
  
"But I thought it was Rufus and R--" Shut up, Elena. Just shut up.  
  
"No, Elena," he says after a moment. "It is true that I have performed one or two experiments on humans in my day, but I do not routinely abduct pretty girls from their beds and force them to participate in any scientific research, ethical or otherwise. Nor do I forcibly seduce them before or after my so-called 'experiments'... although I have certainly seduced more than a few women in my day."  
  
I can feel my entire body blushing at that. "S--seduced?!"  
  
"Well, it is getting late and I must return to my work," he gives me a polite little bow and then turns toward the door. "I hope you enjoy the flowers."  
  
"P--wait, Professor Hojo?" He turns around and looks back at me. "Uhm... if the rumors aren't really true, then... um... why did you stop Heidegger from beating me up?"  
  
His brow creases slightly. "Let us just say one can easily find several better alternatives for disciplining a soldier than killing him or her. Doing so is a needless waste of resources."  
  
"Well, okay but still... you still didn't need to interfere, right? I mean --"  
  
"No, I did not need to interfere. Wanting to do something and needing to do something are often two very different things."  
  
He still hasn't answered my question, but he doesn't seem to want to. And I'm really feeling too tired again to fight with him. "Alright, okay," I sigh. "Thanks again for the flowers, sir."  
  
"And thank you for not calling me a pervert when you woke up to find me looking at you. Good afternoon, Ms. Marshall." He opens the door and steps through it. "Oh, and one more thing," he says without turning around. "I really *am* a Gemini."  
  
And with that, he's gone. The door slides quietly shut behind him.  
  
I just sit there and stare after him. And then my eyes slowly turn back to the red roses. Red... hrm. Tseng just met me today and he gave me white ones. Professor Hojo just met me today (at least officially) and he gave me red ones... I might be a little creeped out if they weren't so pretty, or if I wasn't so tired. But being tired, I just shrug and snuggle back into the covers. Professor Hojo is weird and Tseng is a doll. I'll think about it more tomorrow when I'm awake.  
  
(End Part One) 


	2. Hojo: An Unusual Knight

May to December  
Chapter 2: Hojo: An Unusual Knight  
A FF7 Fan Fic  
by  
Lady Aoi  
  
Summary: Hojo has a lot to think about regarding a certain Turk...  
Pairing: You read that right, kids. Elena/Hojo. Old Hojo.   
Rating: R for Angst, sexuality, language, Hojoness  
Disclaimer: The lovely Hojo and the magnificent Elena do not belong to me. Neither does Heidegger, Scarlet, Reno, Rude, Tseng or anyone else who may wander into this fic just to watch. All these wonderful characters are owned by Square Soft. Please don't sue me. I really *do* need to buy FF8 someday...  
Lady Aoi's Notes: Just so those of you following M2D aren't confused by the sudden chapter rearranging/addition, let me clarify: I decided the fic would make more sense if Hojo got to tell things from his perspective, too. So, from now on, chapters will alternate between Elena and Hojo, in that order. Elena will tell her side of her interaction with Hojo, and then Hojo will tell the interaction from his point of view. However, as both characters do not spend all their time talking to each other, the alternating view points will not simply retell the story's events. In other words, as Elena spends most of her time with Reno and Rude and Hojo with Shinra's executives (or most often alone), the alternating view points will also give the story a wider scope (at least that's my hope -_-;). Enjoy.  
  
~*~  
  
From the moment I opened my eyes this morning, I knew my life was going to change.  
  
I also knew that I had fallen asleep with my head on the keyboard again, because the tip of my nose was suspiciously sore and my computer screen was covered with three-thousand one-hundred and twenty-five pages of yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.  
  
Hm... Why, indeed?  
  
As I highlight and delete the superfluous letters from what was supposed to have been the notes for my latest project, the meddlesome things shimmer and blur into unbroken black bars. ...Ah. Of course. I locate my glasses next to my half-empty coffee mug and put them in their proper place. Instantly, the world leaps back into focus along with the existential question on my computer screen:   
  
Why?  
  
Odd that the Universe has an even poorer grasp of spelling than it has of timing. The real question it should ask me is: how.   
  
How do I know today will not simply consist of the same idiotic routines? I have spent the greater part of the last fifteen years doing nothing but putting out the daily real and figurative fires begun by the incompetents assigned to work for me. Misplaced files, broken equipment, whiney graduate students asking for the weekend off because 'my wife's in the hospital having a baby, sir.' Hehehe. Oh, if they only knew how I responded to a similar 'crisis' at their age! Perhaps then they would understand why I show my sympathies in the form of a pink slip as opposed to the sugar-coated insincerities of greeting cards.   
  
So, how can I be certain my day will consist of more substantial things than changing my workers' diapers? Is it because I sense a change in the air? Has some planet retrograded in my favor? Do my bowels tremble with the sweet excitement of a foregone conclusion?  
  
I cannot say. Actually my back is hurting again. Maybe this is how I know.  
  
But something important is going to happen today, and I do not mean Shinra's ridiculous bread and circuses parade. That is my hypothesis.   
  
With a final keystroke, I eliminate the last 'y' from the screen.  
  
~*~  
  
Despite my... foreknowledge, my day progresses rather quietly. My lab assistant brings the wrong stack of Cetra files from the library and then decides to put himself even further into my good graces by spilling my coffee over said files. After he cleans them up, I re-demote him on the spot. Ten minutes later, I receive the first of the day's telephone calls. I let it ring. It is probably Shinra. After he calls for the third time, I finally cave in and snatch the phone from its cradle.  
  
"Hojo."  
  
"Hojo?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Hojo?"  
  
Yes, it's Hojo, you imbecile! Hojo! Hoh-joh. The head of your scientific research. The man who could throw this entire company into a tale spin if he were to resign. And he would like to, believe me. Forty years of your unimaginative rule has been quite enough for me, despite the brilliant work I have done here.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Hojo?"  
  
I cannot help but roll my eyes. "Yes, President Shinra, my name is Hojo. Simon Hojo. I have been on your payroll for the last thirty-five years, yet you have not given me a raise in the last seven. Regardless of your lack of real understanding of my work, I nevertheless *do* have an actual job and one which keeps me busier than any three of your other executives combined on even the lightest of days. Now, if your incessant ringing of my telephone was done solely to distract me from this work, then let me be the first to congratulate you. You have succeeded far beyond your wildest dreams. If, on the other hand, you actually do have something to say to me, you have three minutes in which to do so."  
  
As one may reasonably expect, Shinra's side of the line remains silent-- a silence for quite sometime. I just sigh and wait for his inevitable recovery -- and his inevitable braying into the receiver. To the best of my knowledge, I am the only senior executive who can deal openly and honestly with our esteemed small minded President. Palmer lacks the brains, Heidegger lacks the nerve, Scarlet is too busy fucking him on the side to need more leverage, and Reeve is too busy fucking Shinra's son to notice much of anything else... except, of course, for the potential suffering of the unwashed masses Shinra supposedly serves. I have yet to determine if his concern is the result of idealism or idiocy.  
  
"Hojo," The president splutters out at last.  
  
I just grin. "That's my name. Say it again and I'll tell you the same."  
  
I almost think this juvenile rhyme upsets our fearless leader more than my previous taunts. "Hojo, stop fucking around and listen!"  
  
"Oh, believe me, sir; I have no choice but to listen to you even when I am lucky enough to be fucking around with your mistress. Out of curiosity, has she ever called my name when you --"  
  
"Dammit, Hojo! Quit being vulgar and get down to the seventeenth floor *now*! We need to go over some final security details for today's parade!"  
  
Oh, I wonder if he means the one I intend to avoid. "Ah, yes! Today is your fortieth anniversary, is it not? Congratulations. Good bye now."  
  
"Hojo, god damn it!!!" The president sighs. "... just... don't do this to me."  
  
"If I come down, will you give me my raise?"  
  
"....." Another sigh. Long and heavy this time. "Very well."  
  
"Thank you." Ahh, the joys of playing with senile President Shinra... he hates me. Everyone hates me. Everyone always hates the indispensable man, especially when they are forced to give him money, power or, worst of all, deference.  
  
I think I will take my time getting to the meeting. My back is bothering me again and walking down all those stairs to the elevator is a difficult task.  
  
~*~  
  
As the elevator slowly descends, I find my thoughts returning to the project now tucked securely away behind several security fields on my computer upstairs. Again I wonder why it has taken so long to implement. Granted, I have been busy: Jenova, Sephiroth, a messy affair with Scarlet, a coffee machine which breaks every other day... even so, this particular project is long overdue and very, very urgent. Especially to a man of my age.  
  
I am going to have another child.   
  
Many of my so-called colleagues know about my marriage to Lucrecia Kestrel, an attractive lab assistant who died tragically in Nibelheim thirty years ago. Through my influence, however, not even President Shinra knows about the young life she birthed minutes away from her untimely fate. For that matter, neither does Sephiroth, as I alone know the security protocols to his background information.   
  
Sephiroth is a perfect, if ungrateful son. Intelligent, strong, beautiful... the best qualities of Lucrecia and Simon Hojo intensified by the Jenova cells in my late wife's bloodstream and the mako I exposed him to at age eight. Although he often speaks in less than flattering terms about my research, character and sexual prowess (to my face, most of the time), he is, nonetheless, every father's unrealized dream: a conduit through which to relive his youth and claim his proper place among the stars. Ah, yes... Sephiroth is the pentagram and I the magician. Through him I will conjure unfettered by demons and wraiths.  
  
And yet, is it not also every father's dream to have even more than this? If Sephiroth is my pentagram, my second child shall be my very conjuring staff. And with my two children, I will not only claim a place among the stars, I will claim the very stars themselves as my own.  
  
Besides, I always wanted a daughter.  
  
The only difficulty that remains is finding a second Lucrecia. And I do not mean a test subject. Lord knows, if I wanted a cadaver or a pair of ovaries on legs, I could have easily obtained one thousands of times over by now. I do not want for mako nor for Jenova cells, as Jenova is herself currently subdued in a tank mere meters from my office. I only want, in fact, for a suitable Lucrecia. For a time I thought Scarlet would be my daughter's mother... but Scarlet had other plans. And none of the women I have courted since our affair's end have possessed the strength, endurance, intelligence and... well, beauty of my first wife. It is a shame. I am beginning to think I will have to resort to measures reserved for the likes of Don Corneo, my rival for the title of Midgard's most notorious lecher. Maybe if I choose three women a night, conduct a proper physical examination and interview... yes, the idea has potential. I can always say I am hunting for a new bride. Scarlet will be scandalized. Another added benefit.  
  
As the elevator stops on the seventeenth floor, I am resolved. I will begin interviewing tomorr-- ow. My back willing, that is.  
  
Before I can even begin to consider a list of potential 'bachellorettes', however, my heart is nearly thrown out of kilter by an all-too familiar bellowing. Heidegger. And from the metallic crunching sounds punctuating his screams of "Or this!" like gunfire, I can only assume he is beating another hapless soldier.   
  
Lucky me. I get to walk right through the battle field. Gritting my teeth, I round the corner -  
  
And walk straight into a slaughterhouse.  
  
Granted, Heidegger is a savage, but I always thought he had his limits. That was before I was treated to the sight of him pounding a bloody corpse with the butt of a riffle. There are very few things in this world that frighten me. But I must say, adrenaline begins coursing through my veins when Heidegger turns towards me, riffle held menacingly at his side.  
  
Neither of us speaks. I wonder fleetingly if Heidegger even remembers how at the moment. In the silence, I allow myself to glance at the body. This situation is indeed critical. If I am not careful, I may also spend this festive day in a Shinra, Inc. body bag.  
  
"Stay out of this, Hojo!" Heidegger growls. "This has nothing to do with you!"  
  
Unfortunately, my dear Heidegger, you have just involved me by aiming your riffle for my left eye. I cannot fail to notice the gore covering its end, either. But I must stay calm... I must get him away from here...  
  
Subtly, I hold my hands out to my sides while standing straight. My eyes flick to Heidegger's own bloodshot pair. Yes, regardless of the situation, I must stay in character. Now is not the time to cave into passivity.  
  
"That may be, general," I tell him with my usual curtness. "But your carrying on is proving to be quite the distraction. I'd wager technicians can hear your bellowing from here to the twenty-fifth floor."   
  
"That so?" The general barks. And yet, my tactic seems to have worked. He has not cocked the gun, nor has he taken another step towards me.   
  
"Indeed. Now, why don't you go make yourself useful by screaming at and/or beating up the cadets who are presumably taking your lead and pestering some of my workers, hmm?"   
  
"What the --?!"   
  
"Yes, that's right. I hardly think you can effectively prepare for this parade with a dozen of your own cadets drunkenly wandering around the laboratory on the forty-first floor, but that's just my humble opinion." A lie on my part. There is no laboratory on the forty-first floor. Nor are their any cadets or technicians. In fact, the forty-first floor is Shinra security's headquarters. I am banking on Heidegger's adrenaline charged mind to allow him to forget this detail. If I can get send him to the appropriate floor, the SOLDIERs and Elite Guards will take note of the blood on his hands and his general raving and confine him to a holding cell.   
  
However, Heidegger is just standing there staring at me as if I were a candidate for his lunch. Methinks he needs more convincing. I decide to pull rank.  
  
"Now, President Shinra, on the other hand, might see things in a somewhat different light." And indeed these prove the magic words. Snorting and swearing at his phantom cadets, Heidegger pushes past me and thunders towards the elevator. "Yes, you have a nice day, too!" I call after him. He does not even grunt to acknowledge my taunt as the steel doors close behind him. Seconds later, the elevator begins to rise...and I begin to breathe again.  
  
Thankfully, this building's architect possessed enough sense to equip each floor with two emergency call boxes. I locate the nearest one and dial the number for building maintenance.  
  
"Hojo, here. You need to send a crew to the seventeenth floor. Blood and a dead body are involved, so you may also want to bring appropriate protection." As the startled dispatcher asks me to repeat myself, I look the corpse over fully for the first time. "Yes, you heard me correctly. There is a dead body in the seventeenth floor's central corridor. The walls are also covered with blood. Heidegger is responsible so I also suggest you alert security. No, this is not a joke!" And then the corpse twitches and sighs. I stop talking and watch as she takes a shaky, gasping breath. It seems she is alive...  
  
"You also need to contact a medical team and send them here immediately," I inform the dispatcher. He just splutters for another repeat. "We have no time for this!" I shout into the receiver. "Do as you're told! Send a medical team to the seventeenth floor's main corridor *NOW*!" And with that I slam the receiver back into its cradle and turn to the woman at my feet.  
  
Woman? No, more of a girl. Even though her face is pressed against the floor, her build is such that I imagine she can be no older than eighteen. Fighting back my urge to follow Heidegger, castrate him and nail him to the nearest wall, I slowly kneel and rest my hand against the girl's neck. A weak pulse dances against my fingertips. She is alive, but she may not be by the time the medics arrive. I need to act quickly. After checking to see if her neck is broken (it is not), I gingerly move the cadet onto her back (ignoring the painful protests from my own)...  
  
And I nearly forget what I am doing at the sight of her face.   
  
Despite her black eye, bruised cheek and split lip she is... breathtaking. Literally. Healthy, cream colored skin, soft blonde hair, high, narrow cheek bones, a slender roman nose... hm.... Hm....  
  
I'm thinking with the wrong head. And now is certainly not the time for this to happen. I can look later. I must act now. The girl is bleeding from several wounds on her back, arms, legs and face. Most of them are slight enough to ignore for the time being, but I don't like the looks of that gash on her side. Two of her ribs are fractured, thus making a tourniquet an impractical solution to say the least. If I had a restore materia...  
  
And then the situation becomes more complicated as the girl moans and begins going into shock. Oh well. At least I can do something about that. Thankfully, someone has propped a janitorial closet open with a small stool. I take this and slide it beneath the girl's feet, noting as I do that her ankle is badly sprained. After draping my lab coat over her trembling body, I pillow her head against my right knee.   
  
"Shhh, don't move," I tell her as she whimpers and tries to roll her head away. To steady her, I slip my hand onto her shoulder and stroke it lightly. Where is that medical team?! And now is certainly not the time for thoughts of the kind I am having! "You're going to be fine," I murmur as I brush a strand of sweat-soaked hair away from her forehead. Hopefully, she believes this platitude.  
  
I do not remain long in this position before the elevator doors ping open and a medical team floods into the hallway. I resist the urge to scream at them for their incompetence (really, five minutes before answering a call from two floors beneath you?) and simply move out of the way as my knee is replaced by a pillow and Cure3 is utilized. Granted, this is enough to stop the worst of her bleeding, but will she live? These witch doctors and their material! "You've used that enough! She needs to go in for treatment immediately!"  
  
To make matters even more complicated, the entire Shinra, Inc. board of directors chooses that particular moment to flood out of the conference room at the hallway's end. As I stand to face them, I cannot help but wonder what in the hell took them this long between Heidegger's bellowing and my own shouted orders.  
  
Reeve is the first to reach us. His face immediately palls and a whimper that sounds suspiciously like "oh my god" escapes his lips as he backs up into an equally shell-shocked Shinra. For her part, Scarlet remains calm... at least until Palmer waddles out of the conference room to make the situation even more surreal.  
  
"Hey, hey! What's going on out here?! Hey, Reeve! Can you move, huh? I can't see what's going on! What are all these people in funny coats doing here?! Scarlet, what's the ma- oh..." Palmer takes one look at the gore-splattered hallway and its gore-splattered occupants before promptly fainting dead away... right on top of Reeve. As the head of Shinra's urban development struggles frantically to disengage himself from Palmer's girth, I begin to laugh uncontrollably. Hahaha! Trust Matthew Palmer to turn even the direst of situations into low comedy!  
  
Shinra, however, does not appreciate my sense of humor. "Hojo, stop that!" he barks. "Stop laughing and tell us what the hell is going on!"   
  
"Ha...hah...I'm not exactly sure, sir."  
  
"Scarlet, see if you can help Reeve out, would you?"  
  
Shrugging, Scarlet kneels down and tries to roll Palmer off the struggling executive. Shinra then blocks my view of the scene by stepping in front of me.  
  
"For the last time, Hojo, what the hell happened?!"  
  
"I'm not sure," I repeat. "I was on my way to meet with you when walked into this mess."  
  
"You just found the woman lying here?"  
  
I shake my head and relate the entire sordid story. Shinra's face is pale long before I'm finished.  
  
"Damn that Heidegger," he growls. "And to pull a stunt like this on *today* of all days..." he shakes his fist. I am reminded of a corpulent baby crying because he dropped his candy in the dirt. "Do you have any idea why he did this?"  
  
"None whatsoever," I say as I lean down and pick up a riffle. "But judging from the guns littered all over the hallway, I believe I have a hypothesis. The cadet - or perhaps she and a partner - were most likely caring these weapons to a storage locker. Along the way, they dropped them and in doing so got on the good general's sole remaining nerve."  
  
Shinra looks ready to murder someone. "I'll teach him a lesson or two!"  
  
"Yes, please see that you do. I'm not sure how many more of his antics I can stand at my age. Or that any of us can stand, for that matter. "  
  
"You said you saw him taking the elevator up to the forty-first floor?"  
  
"I believe so. Why don't you call and see if they've apprehended him?"  
  
"Yes, I suppose I should see to this matter personally," the President bows curtly. "Thanks for your help, Hojo."  
  
"You can thank me by giving me another raise, sir."  
  
His eyes darken. "Don't push your luck."  
  
I shrug. "Don't call during work hours."  
  
He knows it's just not his day. "We'll talk about this in my office tomorrow, Hojo."  
  
"Of course." As Shinra turns and walks away, Scarlet throws her back into her work and finally manages to roll the space program director off Reeve.  
  
Reeve just lies on his stomach, apparently too stunned to move.  
  
"Reeve, are you alright?" Scarlet asks.  
  
For his part, the young man just shudders. "My whole life flashed before my eyes," he whimpers.  
  
As the first two medics load the now (evidently) stable girl onto a gurney, I take the third aside. "You probably want to call some reinforcements," I inform her as I gesture to the scene behind me. "Palmer seems to have fainted on top of Reeve. Neither of them is better off because of it." That done, I turn back to Scarlet, who appears to be struggling to suppress her notorious laugh. "My dear, I believe we have done all we can do here," I offer her my arm. "Why don't we leave?"   
  
"Precisely my thoughts, Simon," she disdains to take my arm. "But must we do so together?"  
  
"I suppose you could take the stairs instead. But if you are going to do so, might I recommend informing these poor medics of the situation before hand? The urban development office is thirty-five flights of stairs from this floor, Scarlet. And those impossible shoes of yours will have ruined you feet long before you reach the appropriate floor."  
  
Scarlet feigns annoyance. "The elevator, then. Together... but be warned. A slap will be the least of your worries if this elevator ride becomes anything but an elevator ride."  
  
"Agreed. And in the event it suddenly changes into a Golden Saucer roller coaster, you may slap me all you like."  
  
Scarlet just smiles as she pushes past me into the elevator. And she says nothing more as the doors close and the carriage begins its ascension.  
  
In fact, I am the first to speak. "Scarlet, how many times have we officially ended our affair?"  
  
She shrugs. "I wouldn't know, Simon, because I don't think of it as an affair." She shifts her weight on her impossibly high heels and opens the clasp on her red handbag. "In fact, I never have. To officially qualify as being an affair, a sexual relationship must involve the following: casualness, guilt, fear, secrecy and just the smallest touch of jealousy."  
  
"Jealousy?" I chuckle as I lean against the elevator's wall. While I heave heard Scarlet's reasons for not calling a spade a spade many times, this argument is new. "What do you mean?"  
  
Scarlet gives me a secretive smile. "Presumably, you are either sleeping with the individual without his or her partner's knowledge and, in doing so, fear he or she will return to them...or something much worse." She removes a small compact from her purse and checks her lipstick in its mirror. "Mh. That the man you are having an affair with will casually put you aside to pursue another woman with as much fervor as he did you."  
  
"Ah. I see. And you are jealous of me now, Scarlet?"  
  
She returns the compact to her purse and shakes her head. "No. Remember, I do not think of our... of us as having an affair. At various times, we have been colleagues, friends, lovers, enemies, soul mates, rivals, default settings and safety nets. But we have never been casual, guilty, afraid, secretive or..." she slides her hand onto my shoulder. "Or jealous, Simon. We have had no reason to indulge in any of these behaviors because, despite the many things we have been to one another, we have always been honest."  
  
"Indeed..." Scarlet hums happily as I slide my hand down her side and rest it on her hip. "Scarlet. Just moments ago you provided a lengthy list of our... relationship's various incarnations. Pray tell, where on this wide spectrum do we stand now?"  
  
Scarlet screws up her pretty face in mock concentration. "Oh, I would say we stand somewhere between being friendly rivals and fuck buddies at the moment, Professor."  
  
"Ah. I see." I must say, I have always admired Scarlet's knack for getting right to the point. Giving her a smile, I gently slide my hand onto her rear for a playful squeeze. "If that is the case, would you like to go somewhere and fuck now, oh friendly rival?"  
  
"Kyahahahaha! My god, you're a slick one, Simon Hojo," Scarlet laughs as she returns the favor. "And a slick one with such a talented hands!"  
  
"Hm... I would appreciate it if you would think less about my hands and more about my tongue right about now."  
  
"Oh really? Kyahahaha! And what does your famous silver tongue want to do now, Simon?"  
  
"It would be much easier to demonstrate than tell you."  
  
"Then by all means, demonstrate."  
  
I must say, the look of embarrassment on Rufus Shinra's face as the elevator opens on the fifty-ninth floor to the sight of two people in a passionate embrace is amusing. However, it is not enough to separate us, even when he mutters a hasty apology and nearly jambs his fingers while pushing the 'close door' button. When we are alone again, however, we both share a hearty laugh.  
  
"Kyahahahaha! It seems we have just provided the President's son with some free sexual education, professor."  
  
"Indeed. Well, I don't know about you, Scarlet, but I believe I am going to abstain from Shinra's little show today. You know how public places aggravate my spine."  
  
"Of course. I, too, will be absent... remember, I *was* a doctor during the war. Perhaps I can help... treat your spine."  
  
I show my enthusiasm for such treatment by planting a series of small kisses on Scarlet's lovely neck. "Mh... your help is much appreciated. And now, my dear Undersecretary of Urban Development, would you care to further our education in a less public venue?"  
  
"That depends. Will you pay me for my treatment?"  
  
"Probably not as much as President Shinra does. But I'm sure I could arrange something..."  
  
"Kyahahahahahaaaaa! Simon, do you honestly think I'm sleeping with the man?!"  
  
I shrug, but my kisses do not let up. "I assume so. Granted, I have never been someone's mistress, but I thought such things were part of the job description."  
  
"Well, I'm certainly not his mistress. Honestly, Simon. Can't you tell the difference between malicious office gossip and true malicious behavior? No, I am not sleeping with President Shinra." I shiver as Scarlet's teeth nibble their way up my ear. "I'm simply blackmailing him," she whispers.  
  
"Ah...I see. You must tell me more about this later...at a more convenient time."  
"Of course. But first things first. Your apartment or mine?"  
  
"Mhh...yours. Your bed is harder."  
  
Half an hour later, however, the hardness of the mattress is the last thing on either of our minds.   
  
~*~  
  
Two hours later, I dress and give my happily napping friendly rival/fuck buddy a gentle kiss and let myself out of her apartment. She will know enough to check her refrigerator door for my message. I have been called back to Shinra on urgent business, the note says, and I will see her later. Tomorrow, maybe, for lunch.  
  
So much for being completely honest with one another. And yet, I have not officially lied to Scarlet. An urgent project does, indeed, call me back to my office... however, no one knows of its existence but me.  
  
It is not difficult to access any medical records at Shinra, Inc... especially if you are Simon Hojo and you have level eight security clearance and the record of the person you are looking for is open to anyone possessing level five.  
  
"Name: Elena Marshall..." I read as the record pops onto the screen. Mh. A very pretty name for a very pretty girl. Age: Twenty last Monday. Happy birthday, Elena. You certainly don't look your age. Height: Five foot ten. A taller woman; I appreciate that. Weight: One hundred forty pounds; healthy and sturdy, good. IQ: One hundred forty-six. Smart enough to talk to me, certainly. Excellent physical fitness and a clean bill of health... save for a rather disturbing list of common allergies. I suppose no one can be perfect, though. And minor things such as that are easily correctible.   
  
Then it hits me. Regardless of the why and wherefore, it has happened. My life has been irrevocably changed today because I have found her. This cadet will be the mother of my second child! She is strong enough to withstand the Jenova treatments, the mako... everything!   
  
It is as if the universe has simply dropped the perfect specimen right into my lap.  
  
Now all that remains is convincing her. But this should not be incredibly difficult. If I am charming, if I buy her presents, if I show an interest in her career... women are right to call the names they do. Because even in this so-called enlightened age, most men do not take an active interest in their wives and lovers' wants and needs. Often this is all a man needs to show to win a woman's heart.  
  
However, he also needs the woman to be conscious. And as of entering the clinic on level thirty-two, Elena Marshall officially was not. And she is currently dividing her time between being unconscious and being officially in a coma.  
  
....  
  
Oh, hell.  
  
And for her part, Elena Marshall remains in a coma for the rest of the day. She remains in the coma for the rest of the week, and the next two weeks. I am beginning to lose hope in my project. I am certain I will never find another specimen like this young cadet, and if she remains in this coma forever... yes, I have thought of extreme measures. I have contemplated artificially inseminating her with the appropriate Jenova charged sperm... but this would have to be a last resort. The risk of getting caught is great. Greater still the risk of hiding her pregnancy from the clinic's doctors and inducing labor if the need arises. Risks aside, however, this plan is just not my style. I have done many things in the name of science that the unimaginative and unintelligent would label immoral, but impregnating a woman with my own sperm without her knowledge is not one of them. I would much prefer seducing her first.  
  
And then, in the middle of the fourth week, I call up Elena's file to check her condition and notice a startling change. Her status has been upgraded from critical to stable. Intrigued, I look into the matter further and discover, indeed, that she is again conscious and well on the road to recovery.  
  
Ten minutes later, I am at the Midgard Plaza Mall in Sector Eight... and haggling over the price of roses with the sector's sole florist.  
  
"Ya say ya want long stems?"  
  
"Yes. One dozen white long stem roses."  
  
The man scratches his head. He reminds me of an ape. "Huh. Don't get much demand for them most days. 'Til today, that is. Guy in a blue suit comes in asking for the same thing."  
  
"Yes, how fascinating. Now, do you or do you not have a dozen white roses?"  
  
"Well, see, thing is, we don't get much call for them, so that guy in the blue suit bought up the only batch we had. Hey! Don't go! We got plenty more to choose from."  
  
I just shrug. "I wanted white long stems. You do not have them." And it will take me a week to grow them, damn it.  
  
"Well, yeah, but we do have some red ones. In the back. I can go get 'em now. But they cost extra. Being that they're more in demand and all."  
  
"Yes, yes, I understand basic economics," I suppose red roses will have to do, even if they do not convey the exact impression I wanted. "Fine. Just get me the red roses."  
  
"That'll be 200 gil, sir," he says as he hands me the roses.  
  
I hand him a note for fifty and storm out of the store, patently ignoring his shouts of "sir! Sir! You only gave me a note for fifty, sir!" Really, the exorbitance! Flowers are not this rare in Midgard! I wouldn't even pay this much for a dozen roses at Icicle Inn.  
  
~*~  
  
When I finally arrive at Elena's room, I am greeted by its two guards... or rather, I'm sure I would have been greeted were they awake. Currently, two boys in black suits are dozing back to back to the left of the door, surrounded by a sea of empty beer cans. Ugh. Who are these ruffians, and why are they.... Ah, of course. Black suits. Turks-in-training.... Or should I say budding alcoholics. Probably assigned to protect the girl from Heidegger. Despite Shinra's discipline, a pay dock and a demotion, he is still free to roam Shinra, Inc. at his leisure and is probably looking for the source of his discomfort even as her guards drink themselves into a stupor. Well, my faith in the Turks has certainly been restored.  
  
The bald one just snores away, but the red-haired one isn't so quiet. He tosses his head from time to time and murmurs "Elena"... how very interesting. Is Elena Marshall dating a little Turk, or is Red just dreaming about his assignment? At any rate, I don't want to wake them. I'm not in the mood to explain myself to two shit-faced Turks today. And so, I simply enter my ID code into the room's keypad and slip through the door as it hisses open.  
  
Elena Marshall must certainly have friends in high places. A cadet would typically not get her own hospital room... or a bouquet of white long stem roses either. Hm... curiouser and curiouser. It seems Tseng of the Turks was the blue suit who beat me to my flowers. He is seeing a cadet? That certainly explains the posting of Tweedle Drunk and Tweedle Drunker at the door... but one would really think he'd have more sense than to leave her in the hands of two seventeen-year-olds.  
  
I gently slide my vase of red roses onto the side table. Yes, they are lovely, and they certainly cover up Tseng's little bouquet nicely... but why white roses? Perhaps I am mistaken. Perhaps she has no lover... all the better. I will have no rival to crush this time around. And despite my prestige, I seriously doubt I could get away with effectively burying another Turk alive. To this day, I know Heidegger believes I am responsible for Vincent Valentine's disappearance and probably death. Such a shame Heidegger is not entirely as stupid as he acts.  
  
Well, Elena Marshall is certainly looking better than she did at our last encounter. Her face is no longer bruised and swollen, and save for the cast covering her right arm, she could easily just be taking a nap in a hospital bed... hm... her cast has been signed by Tseng, Reno and.... Rad? Rude? What kind of name is Rude?  
I don't have long to ponder this question, however, because Elena chooses that particular moment to gasp and open her eyes. I regard her calmly. Cream colored skin, messy blonde hair, deep ice blue eyes... the picture on her medical file does not do her eyes justice. I am lost in them already. She looks frightened and confused, though. I shouldn't stare too long. "Well," I smile gently. "It looks like you're awake."  
  
"I guess so." Elena blinks a few times and looks me over. Does she know who I am? Does she remember me at all from our encounter last month? "Uhm..."  
  
No. Apparently not. "You're wondering who in the hell I am and what I'm doing here."  
  
"Uh...Yeah." Strong, intelligent, beautiful and pithy, too! I am a lucky man, indeed.  
  
"Forgive my rudeness." I say as I take a seat in the chair next to her bed. "I was informed you'd awakened from your coma early this morning and I wanted to see you for myself."  
  
"Okay...." I would tell her my name, but I'm certain it would only scare her. And so I decide to draw her attention to...  
  
"I brought you some flowers." Elena blinks and stares at me. "Don't worry. I checked your profile and chose something appropriate. That is, something that won't have any adverse effects on your recovery." She just blinks again. "It seems that you have some fairly severe allergies. And having grown up in Midgard where flowers are, indeed, a rarity, the last thing I wanted to do was tax your immune system any more than it already has been."  
  
"How did you know all that?" She asks. I am surprised. If Scarlet were visited on her sick bed by a strange man in a lab coat who had not identified himself immediately, she would have smashed him in the face with his flowers, broken arm or no. "Like, about my allergies and where I grew up and stuff?"  
  
"Hm? Oh, I simply checked your medical files," I might as well be honest.  
  
Elena looks more confused than troubled. "Uh... don't you have to have proper clearance to do that?"   
  
"Proper secu--" I can't suppress my laughter. Oh, she is simply too adorable! "Hehe. Oh, don't worry, Ms. Marshall. I can assure you that, indeed, I went through all proper channels to view your file. Hehe."  
  
She giggles back. It is nothing like mine. "Well, okay, but I still don't know your name or anything."   
  
...And my back is bothering me again. I stand up to stretch it and notice something disconcerting. One of my roses is decaying, slightly. Hoping she won't notice, I walk to the table and turn the offending flower away from her while plucking the brown petals away. She looks troubled... and then truly alarmed.   
  
"Ms. Marshall, is something the matter?" Perhaps something is. The color has just drained out of her face. Instinctively, I bring my hand up to feel her forehead. Her skin is soft, slightly clammy. She does not have a fever.  
  
"No, no that's fine! It's just..." she looks at me for a long moment and then shrugs. "...It's nothing. I'm just a little surprised is all. They're really nice. Thank you."  
  
"Well, I'm happy you like them, Ms. Marshall. I'm also happy to inform you of your extraordinary fortune." My back feels better now, and I believe I can risk sitting again. "I began seeing to most of your injuries the moment Heidegger left," I might as well mention this for extra brownie points, after all. "While I was able to help the worst of them, I was, sadly, unable to do much for your right arm. Even with the materia these ridiculous witch doctors insisted upon treating you with, your arm is probably going to give you some trouble for a little while. Be thankful, though. It staved off some very nasty blows that were intended for your skull simply because you had the good sense to cover your head." Elena looks truly confused now, but I continue nonetheless." The extent of your injuries was such that your body decided to shut down for a little while in order to repair them. And although we did have you on life support, I was confident it was only a matter of time before you would awaken."  
  
"Oh." Her eyes travel to my wedding tag. Clever girl. She's solved the puzzle.  
  
"Eee."  
  
"Eee?" She doesn't like the photo on my badge? How sad. I think it looks rather flattering. "Well, yes, I do need to get a new picture, but I was pleased with this one so--"   
  
Or could it possibly be the name she is unhappy with?  
  
"But that isn't the problem, I take it." Oh dear. In my haste I seem to have neglected something. The poor girl has probably heard all kinds of exaggerated stories about me and my research... oh dear. I truly hope she didn't hear about the time I almost fed my lab assistant to a sea worm... because that story has the misfortune of being true...   
  
"Elena," I soothe. "Why are you looking at me as if I were about to attack you?"  
  
The girl begins giggling again. "Looking at you like you were -- oh, professor! Don't be so silly! Hahahahahaha!"  
  
Oh dear. Something about that laugh tells me she's only heart *those* particular rumors. I sigh and lean my head into my hand. "Elena, I don't know what particular brand of 'Professor Hojo is an Evil, Sadistic Bastard' stories the Turks are telling you cadets as of late, but I can assure you that many of them are lies. Typical products of some drunken Turk's lust for bawdy storytelling." Perhaps even the Turks currently guarding your door, come to think of it.   
  
"So you don't experiment on girls?" It seems I was right.  
  
I can't help it. I find those rumors so silly, especially considering my actual dealings with Lucrecia in matters of science. "Heheheeheheh! Oh my, that is certainly the funniest and longest-lived rumor at Shinra, Inc... with the exception of Palmer's having an affair with Rufus... or was it Heidegger? There really are too many variants of that particular story." I highly doubt Reeve is amused by any of them.  
  
"But I thought it was Rufus and R--" Thinking better of herself, the girl closes her mouth and looks away.  
  
"No, Elena," I say after a moment. "It is true that I have performed one or two experiments on humans in my day," more than that, actually. "But I do not routinely abduct pretty girls from their beds and force them to participate in any scientific research, ethical or otherwise. Nor do I forcibly seduce them before or after my so-called 'experiments'... "But honesty is the best policy. "Although I have certainly seduced more than a few women in my day."  
  
"S--seduced?!" It seems I have made the girl blush. I should probably leave now before I do any more damage.  
  
"Well, it is getting late and I must return to my work," I stand and politely bow to her. "I hope you enjoy the flowers."  
  
"P--wait, Professor Hojo?" I turn around and find her still blushing. "Uhm... if the rumors aren't really true, then... um... why did you stop Heidegger from beating me up?"  
  
I can be entirely honest this time around. "Let us just say one can easily find several better alternatives for disciplining a soldier than killing him or her. Doing so is a needless waste of resources."  
  
"Well, okay but still... you still didn't need to interfere, right? I mean --"  
  
"No, I did not need to interfere. Wanting to do something and needing to do something are often two very different things." Although this saying does not hold true in your case, Elena. I need you for my experiment and yes, I do believe I can grow to want you for my own as well.  
  
"Alright, okay," I can tell she is not satisfied with this answer, but we have both had enough for one day. "Thanks again for the flowers, sir."  
  
I just smile in return. "And thank you for not calling me a pervert when you woke up to find me looking at you. Good afternoon, Ms. Marshall." But I do not leave before confirming at least one of the only three facts most Shinra employees know about me. "Oh, and one more thing. I really *am* a Gemini."  
  
And then I leave her.  
  
As I pass the sleeping pre-Turks, I congratulate myself. I feel my first meeting with the girl went particularly well. But I mustn't rush things. If I come on too strong, she will never consent... all in good time, Simon. All in good time. Give her a little while to get used to you first. I am certain she will.   
  
Just as I am certain she will make a wonderful mother to our child.  
  
(End Part Two) 


	3. Elena: A Secretary is Not a Toy

May to December  
A FF7 Fan Fic  
Chapter 3: Elena: A Secretary is Not a Toy...  
by  
Lady Aoi  
  
Summary: Elena recovers from her injuries in chapter one. But where is Professor Hojo?  
Rating: R for language, general Turkiness. Will still be R later for sexuality and angst, too.  
Disclaimer: The lovely Elena and the amazing Hojo are not my creations. They belong to Square Soft, as do the equally fantabulous Rude, Reno, Tseng, Heidegger, Scarlet and any other characters who wander into this fic. Please don't sue me. I can't get the strategy guide to FF9 if you do. Yes, I'm a lamer. Sue me ^_~.  
Spoilers: Nothing really beyond the first disc. You should be fairly safe.  
Lady Aoi's Notes: Uhm... hm. I forgot to include a ton of notes with the last chapter. First of all, from the department of giving credit where credit is due: I'd like to thank Hojo's Honeys for giving the good doctor the first name 'Simon'. I haven't spoken to most of you, but I know that other fan fic authors have followed your lead, and wisely so. For whatever reason, this name suits him as seamlessly as his lab coat and spectacles do. Secondly, after re-reading my fic, it occurred to me that Hojo may seem to be a tad out of character for some people's tastes. My reason for not portraying him as either a gibbering lunatic or a cold, menacing pervert (two portrayals I've often seen in fan fiction) is the following: most women I know wouldn't find either Hojo very sexy. And considering that Hojo has not one but three bikini-clad babes flocking around him on the beach at Costa del Sol, I believe it is safe to infer that Hojo doesn't tend to act like a freak around women he finds attractive and/or wants to impress. That said, enjoy your second helping ^_^.  
  
~*~  
  
That night, I had this really weird dream about Reno and me getting drunk. We were trying to convince Rude that he had a mog growing out of his butt, but he was too busy making out with Rufus to notice, and he kept telling Reno to "shut the fuck up". And of course, life being unfair and all, I had to wake up just as Tseng walked through the door in a pair of briefs and nothing but.  
  
And of course I had to wake up to Reno and Rude acting like a pair of jerky little boys.   
  
"Shh, you're gonna wake her up, ya dumb fuck!"  
  
"Oh, fuck you, Rude! It was your idea to pull this shit, anyway. She'll probably have a heart attack when she wakes up and sees 'em."  
  
"Wait... no, my idea was to get her a cake. You were the one who came up with this sick practical joke, asshole."  
  
"What the fuck did you call me, you dipshit?!"  
  
Rude just gives him a blank look. "Asshole. And it's spelled a-s-s-h-o-l--"  
  
I clear my throat just as Reno is about to start screaming again.  
  
"Aw, shit, look what you did now, fucknut! You woke her up!" Reno bellows. Too late.  
  
"Yeah, and from a real good dream too, you twerps." I scold as I stretch my left arm up. Well, guess I can be thankful for something. At least this arm doesn't have a stupid cast with a bunch of dirty poems all over it.   
  
Instantly Reno's grinning like a stoned cat. He flops down next to me on the bed and begins poking at my stomach.  
  
"Owww! That freakin' hurts, Reno! You're such a jerk!"  
  
"Owww! That freakin' hurts, Reno! You're such a jerk!" I flip him off as he leans down and gives my stomach a kiss.   
  
"Eww! Quit it!"  
  
"So, who you dreaming about this morning, 'Lena?" he asks as he rolls over on his stomach to look up at me. "Was it Tseeeeeeeeeeeeeng?" Damn. The blush gives it away every time and he knows it, the pig! "Awwwww, does 'Lena-Wena got a crush on Tseeeeeengy-poodles."  
  
"Shut the fuck up, Reno." He winces as I slap his cheek with my left hand. Wow, my left arm sure is bruised still...I wonder if what Professor Hojo said is really true. Maybe my body just shut down. Maybe it didn't really heal at all.  
  
"Me-yowyow!" Reno rubs his cheek. "Kitty got claws." And then he swipes and hisses at me.  
  
I stick my tongue out at him. Immature little brat. "That's right. And kitty'll claw your face if you don't quit rolling around. You're jiggling the bed and it's hurting my back, dummy!"  
  
"Yeah, right. Like it your back's all that fucked up." But he does get off the bed at last, thank god. "Hey, Rude. Quit jerking off over there and get the lady's cake!"  
  
"Get it yourself, fucknut. I'm still blowing up these stupid balloons of yours."  
  
"What stupid balloons?" I ask turning my head. Floor and bed look empty enough. And then I notice Reno's giggling like a freak and pointing up at the ceiling. So I roll my eyes upwards slowly...  
  
Yeah, and I regret asking as soon as I see them. I don't know how the guys did it without getting caught but the entire hospital room ceiling is covered in a sea of floating...  
  
"Condoms." Each of which has a little smiley face that slightly resembles Reno's painted on its bottom in magic marker. So, basically I'm staring up at a bunch of badly drawn mini Renos. It's about then that their creator begins snorting and slapping his knees and laughing like a twit. "No, I so don't even want to know where you got those things," I tell him.  
  
"Men's rooms, first through forty-first floors," Rude says as one of the condoms he's filling from a helium tank explodes and snaps into his finger.  
  
I just shake my head and chuckle. Heck, it's so stupid it's actually kinda funny... in a sick and twisted little brother kind of way. "You guys are way too much."  
  
Reno shrugs. "We also wanted to get you a blow up doll and dress it up like Tseng, but the fucking store was fresh out. So, we'll try again tomorrow."  
  
I just make a face. "No you won't. I do not want a blow up doll that looks like him or anybody!"  
  
"Aww, is wittle 'Lena embawwassed about her wuvvie-duvvie?" Reno giggles as he hops over to my desk. I think it's about then that he notices the red roses. "Hey, 'Lena," he says, bending down to get a better look at them. "Who brought ya these?"  
  
"Unh..." eek! What do I say?! He knows they're not from Tseng, and if I told him the truth... "Erkk... uh.... Tseng?" Dammit! I'm awful at keeping secrets, and he so knows it!  
  
"Yeah, right," Reno shoves his hands into the pockets of his blue uniform and frowns. "Rude, get your hand off your dick and get over here. Looks like our 'Lena's got a secret admirer!"  
  
"Shut up, I do not!" But I'm sure blushing like I do as Rude hurries over to the bedside. "I dunno who brought them then, cause it sure wasn't Pro--" dammit!  
  
"Pro?"  
  
"Uh... Palmer. It wasn't Palmer."  
  
"Oh god, let's hope the fuck not," Reno snorts as he reaches up for one of the roses. "Hey, lookit this! There's a little card on this little rose! Think we should read it, Rude?"  
  
Uh-oh... Professor Hojo left me a card?! Eeek! Why'd he do that?! "Hey guys, cut it out! That's mine!"  
  
"And when we were six, we took the following oath, all three of us. What's mine is yours and yours is mine and all for one and one for all."  
  
"Uh, Reno, I think that's from a book..." Rude begins.  
  
"We did not Reno, and you freakin' know it!" Eeee! Too late! He's already opening the card! And now he's gonna read whatever's inside! Well, I mean, duh, but -- but still! Who knows what weird stuff Professor Hojo wrote in there?! Like maybe he wrote the date and time he's gonna pick me up for an experiment! Okay, okay, so he said he didn't do things like that, not really, but what if he was lying?! And worse! What if Reno freaks out and starts screaming again that he's gonna kill Professor Hojo for giving me flowers that are probably covered with some weird chemical or something that's eating my brains out even as Reno's reading it. Oh my god! Why the heck am I so nervous?! It's just a gift. Okay, it's kind of creepy to give someone that you don't know really well red roses when you first meet them, but -- but it's just a gift and -- and I have no idea why I'm blushing!! Why am I blushing?! Ohh, why won't he just say something?!?!?  
  
"Oh come on, Reno! What the hell does it say already?!?!?!?"  
  
Rude's head jerks back slightly when I scream. Reno also looks a bit surprised. "I haven't even gotten the damn thing opened yet, 'Lena. Try not to cream yourself or anything," and with that he tears the card open and begins reading.  
  
"So, what's it say?!"  
  
Reno's pretty quiet for a second. And then he shakes his head and reads: "To Ms. Elena Marshall: I wish you a speedy recovery. Sincerely, Simon Hojo."   
  
Ieeeee! I don't like the way Reno's brow is twitching. But hey, it's innocent enough, right? I mean, the guy just said he hopes I get well soon. What's the matter with that?! There are greeting cards out there that get way more personal and mushy than that.  
  
"P.S.," Huh? There's more? Reno smoothes his hair out and reads on. "I'm sorry a pretty girl like you has to go through something like this. You didn't deserve what Heidegger did to you, dear."   
  
Wow. I've never seen Reno actually at a loss for words before. And if I wasn't about ready to puke from being freaked out, I'm sure I'd think it was pretty amazing. Reno just stands there, reading and re-reading the card. And then Rude takes the card from him and goes over it a few times. He then takes his sunglasses off and goes over it a few more times. Then he gives it back to Reno who reads it to himself again. Finally, Reno puts the card back on the night table and taps Rude on the shoulder. They both turn around and quick march over to a corner of the room, wrap their arms around each other's shoulders and huddle like two guys on a football field. Every now and then, Reno yells something and Rude jabs him with an elbow to make him shut up. I'm too nervous to say anything until they break the huddle and turn back towards me. Uh-oh. They're both grinning. That's not good. That's so not good...  
  
"Elena, honey," Reno says as he slides back over to my bed. "Rude and I were talking just now and uhm... well, we're both a little bit confused, okay?"  
  
"Uhm... okay... what's up?"  
  
Reno keeps grinning at me. "Well, either a very, very sick joke got played on you while you were resting up, or someone named Simon Hojo brought you a vase full of twelve long-stem red roses with a card in which he calls you 'pretty girl' and 'dear'."  
  
And why the hell am I blushing?!? "Uhm... uhn..."  
  
"And unless there is some cadet or lab assistant here who is, quite coincidentally named Simon Hojo, this is either a fucking sick practical joke or the real guy paid you a visit. Well?"  
  
Yeah, whenever Reno gives me that stern little look, I always crack like an eggshell. "Hey, Reno, chill out! It's not what you think!"  
  
"I see. Okay. Alright. Okay. Rude, you stay with 'Lena. I'm going to go see the professor right now. We need to talk. No, not talk. I need to chop his nuts off with a broken bottle, shove them down his throat, push his head into the nearest toilet bowl and flush for the next two years." And then Reno starts for the door.  
  
"R--reno! It's not -- he didn't *do* any -- oh, get back here, you moron! Nothing weird hap-- Rude, make him stop!"  
  
"Hey, Reno, come back to reality for a sec and listen to 'Lena, okay?"  
  
Good thing Rude said that when he did. Reno was practically out the door. And for a second I'm really scared he's gonna go do something stupid. Ten seconds later, though, he's back in the room and leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest and glaring at both of us.  
  
"Okay, okay. Rude's got a point. Talk, 'Lena. Tell me what the fucker did to you. Did he touch you? Did he try and --"  
  
"Oh for hell's sake, Reno! Just because Tseng told you he was a dirty old man doesn't mean he really is!"  
  
"Oh, doesn't it?!"  
  
"No!" I just shake my head and stare at the cocky jerk. "I think I was here and fully awake when he walked in with the flowers," Okay so that's not entirely true, but... "So I think if he tried to do anything, I'd probably know about it."  
  
Reno just shakes his head. "I still don't like it, 'Lena. It's not just me, either. That guy gives *everyone* the willies. He's just ..." He tries to find the right word for a bit then shrugs. "You know?"  
  
"He seemed fine yesterday. And he was real nice to me."  
  
"I just hope that's all the drugs they've got pumped in you speaking and not your real feelings, kid."  
  
I'm saved from what's looking like the start of a five hour lecture by Rude, who just happens to glance down at his watch then. "Well, whatever's going on, Reno, you and I have to report to Tseng in ten minutes. So we'd better go."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Reno comes over to me again and pats my shoulder. "All I'm saying, 'Lena, is watch your back, 'kay? 'Cause Rude an' me can't always watch it for you."  
  
I swat at his hand lightly. "And don't forget, I'm three years older than you both, punk. And that's about a decade in slum years."  
  
Reno sighs. "Like that means a fucking thing. Rude and me've been working here way longer. We know the ropes, 'Lena. You don't. Case in point: we wouldn'ta been Heidegger's lunch meat."  
  
I'm just gonna ignore that insult. "Fine, whatever, Dad. I'll be on my guard."  
  
"We'll be back tomorrow," and with another pat, he's gone. Rude gives me a peck on the cheek and tells me not to worry too much, because Reno's never been big on tact, and then follows him out, helium tank in tow. I just lie back and watch the condom balloons bobbing up and down. Man, the orderlies are gonna have a fit when they see that. A thousand little Reno's watching me as I sleep.   
  
And he thinks Professor Hojo's creepy?  
  
~*~  
  
Speaking of Professor Hojo, I don't see him again for the entire time I'm in the hospital. Rude and Reno show up every day, of course, and usually get kicked out within the same hour for being noisy and talking dirty. Either that or the head nurse was way more pissed off about the "balloons" than she let on, which I really think she was. Sometimes Tseng stops by, too. And the eye candy is also appreciated... as is the real candy, which he usually has. Or the books and magazines (none of which, thankfully, are glamour magazines. I prefer 'Ammo and Guns Weekly'). And once, he brought me the cutest little teddy bear. I just got a kick out of that! I named it after him, but didn't tell him that. He'd just think it was stupid and childish, which I guess it is. Tseng was way cooler about the red roses than the guys were, too. When they started looking a little wilted, he said he'd take them and his roses, dry them, and put them in my room so I could keep them forever if I wanted. Of course I said yes. It's so rare we see flowers in Midgard, so I wanna hang on to those I *do* get for as long as I can.  
  
The weird thing though is, I can't get Professor Hojo out of my mind. The visit was just so... aside from the guys and Tseng, I didn't have any other visitors, and certainly not from Shinra execs. I mean, these people are way up there, and it's not like they have time or even care when a pion like me gets hurt. But Hojo... huh. Maybe he's just a nice guy and he does this for everyone when they're sick or hurt. But Shinra's a huge company, and if he did that he'd just be buying flowers and writing get well cards all day long. So that can't be it. It was probably because he personally saw me get hurt. Yeah, that has to be it. I mean, no one else was there but him and Heidegger, and of course Heidegger wouldn't send a get well card. I bet he can't even spell his own name.  
  
Still, it is... Reno's right, I guess. The whole thing was just plain weird. And eeeeee! Why is it getting to me like this?! It's not like I have a crush on the guy or anything!  
  
Well, anyway, they keep me in the hospital for the next month and then I'm discharged. The suckiest thing, though, is that now I'm two months and a week behind in my training. So, they give me two options: I can either lay out for a year and reapply to join the Shinra army next year, or... or I can just take a desk job. Of course, I'm all for reapplying and just waiting the year out. That is, until Tseng let me in on some inside information. Apparently, Heidegger really got in trouble for what he did to me. I say apparently because he'd probably done things as bad as this before and no one had ever called him on it. This time, however, he'd been reprimanded by President Shinra, given a huge dock in pay, and had part of his job turned over to a woman named Scarlet, who was now going to serve as co-chair of Shinra's weapons development. Needless to say, Heidegger probably wanted me dead for real this time, so reapplying to join the military was not a good idea right now. At least according to Tseng and the guys, who all felt the same way.  
  
Okay, I didn't cry once during my recovery, no matter how bad my wounds hurt. Not even that one time I got a nasty bed sore on my hip. But when the guys told me I should probably take the desk job, I just burst into tears.   
  
I mean, really. My whole life has been, what? From thirteen on, I worked crappy, insulting jobs like most slum girls. I waited tables. I cleaned rooms. I stocked stores. I once even went homeless for three months after getting fired because I didn't want to suck my manager off. And I did not -- I did not spend the last eleven years being poked, prodded, threatened, stalked and having my butt grabbed at least twice a day to have it end this way! God damn it! I *worked* I really *worked* to meet all the requirements for the military! I trained day and night to get my stupid arm muscles strong. I spent all my money on good healthy food so I'd pass the medical exams. And I worked around the clock at the Wall Market weapons shop just to perfect my knowledge of artillery. Which, guess what?! Is way better than Reno or Rude's will ever be, and they're gonna make Turk next year, probably! And now, thanks to some maniac, I'm never gonna make Turk? I get to be punished forever just for being a good soldier and for trying to get the job done?! Where the hell were those three cadets who never showed up to help me move the riffles?! Why haven't they been forced to take desk jobs?! Why the hell wasn't Heidegger fired and court marshaled, or at least locked up in some padded cell where he can't hurt anyone anymore?! If I beat a cadet up, or if a freaking Turk beat someone up, you'd better *bet* they'd lock us up so fast our heads'd spin. But just because he's a general and some fat cat Shinra executive, he gets to give me a death sentence?! Well fuck him and fuck Shinra, Inc., too! I'll go back to working at Teddy's weapon shop in the slums before I rot behind some desk. And if the guys don't like my attitude, they can just shove it because no one here is out to get *them* for just trying to be the best that they can!  
  
I think while I'm screaming all of this at the top of my lungs, the guys and Tseng somehow figure out that I'm serious. When I've finally tired my voice out, Reno and Rude just put their arms around me and hug like they've never hugged me before, not even the day they carted father off to prison. And Tseng just quietly tells me that he'll do everything in his power to make Heidegger forget my name, my face, everything about me. It'll probably be way easier than any of us imagine, seeing as he's way too busy and stupid to remember much about anything for very long. And besides, he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. Next week he'll beat some other cadets up and start holding a grudge against them. Nobody has room enough in their hearts to hate too many people at once.  
  
I just tell Tseng that, if he can say that, he definitely didn't grow up in the slums and therefore has no right to tell me what will and will not be okay. I know I hurt him by saying that, but at the moment I'm just not me. This whole thing has just been a little too much for me to take all at once like this. But I think he realizes that. He says he'll do his best to fix things and that I really should take the desk job because "The world needs more dedicated people like you, Elena. And it'd be terrible if you let one insignificant man destroy you. You're way too good for that." And well, of course, that gets me blushing again, and of course Reno has to say something stupid about that, and before we know it we're all laughing.  
  
So, yeah, I take the desk job. As much as I hate it, Tseng is right. Life sucks a lot of the time and things don't usually go your way without a lot of hard work and patience. And I'll prove to everyone around me that I have a whole lot of both. Even if it means I have to make coffee and file stuff for a year, two years, hell, even three years. I'm young and I have time. I've done worse things for less, right? At least as a secretary the pay is good enough to get a decent apartment and health benefits. Ohh, and, as soon as Rude and Reno make Turk, they and Tseng are gonna start teaching me some tricks of the trade. So I'll just be that more ahead if... no... when, Elena... *when* I get back into the military.  
  
So, for the next year, my life is pretty boring. I get assigned to work for Palmer and the space program. Palmer doesn't like blondes at all, so he pretty much just ignores me, which is great. On week days, enter data, and answer phones. When something breaks, they always ask me to fix it, and that's pretty fun. Maybe I should apply to be a technician if Tseng can't fix things. I bet I'd do good at it! On weekends, the guys, Tseng and me go out to the country and drill. So I'm keeping in shape for the most part. And about the time of my incident with Heidegger's one year anniversary rolls around, I get transferred to the science department. And by now, I've completely forgotten about Hojo... that is until I see the word "science" on the transfer letter in my mailbox. But even so, I haven't ran into him at all, so it's pretty much just an 'oh yeah, isn't that his department' kind of realization. The next day, I pack up my desk and move up to ...   
  
Huh. That's weird. They gave me a key card to the sixty-eighth floor. That's restricted personnel only. Only the head secretaries in Palmer's department have access to this floor. That's really strange... but maybe it's just because Shinra's real secretive about its science research. At least that's what I decide as I swipe it through the keypad and enter my code. Maybe all the secretaries on this floor have keycards.  
  
The lock on the door beeps and flashes red. Damn it. Access denied. I shift my box of stuff onto my hip and swipe again. Bee-beep beep. Access denied. And according to what it says on the swipe pad's screen, the third failed attempt will trigger an alarm. Oh for... I sigh and adjust my box again. Darn. Just my luck that they give me a messed up key card. Now I have to go all the way down to the fiftieth floor and get a new one. And that'll make me at least forty-five minutes late to my first day! Oh, of all the stupid things! Why can't they test these first... eeee. Maybe the door's just jammed. Or maybe if I just swipe it again really fast, the alarms won't sound. Maybe it'll open. I only have ten minutes to get to my work station, so I have to... I guess I have to try.  
  
Gritting my teeth, I slide the box against the wall for extra support and swipe the card again. It seems to take forever for it to process this time. C'mon, c'mon... oh come on, door!  
  
An ominous click, and the light flashes red.  
  
Oh shit....  
  
And then the alarms begin to sound and the lights begin to flash.  
  
"Intruder alert! Intruder alert!" a vaguely female computerized voice informs the entire floor. Oh no. Oh no no no no no!!  
  
"Shhh!" I tell it, reacing out to slap the swipe pad. Ohh. Maybe there's a button somewhere! Maybe it's just malfunctioning and ... "I'm not an intruder! My key card just won't work! It's not my fault! Oh, please just let me in! Please!" Oh no.. I probably have about ten seconds until the roboguards get here, and then the entire building's gonna know that I messed up again and... and everything was going so good today! Why the heck does this have to happen to me?!  
  
It's about then that the box from my old office decides to help me out even more by sliding out from its wedged position between my hip and the wall and overturning on the floor. I watch in horror as papers, pencils, my pictures of the guys, candies, Tseng-Tseng the teddy bear and more go flying, rolling and sliding in all different directions.  
  
"Oh no no no! Don't do this! Shit!" With a final punch to the key pad, I hike my skirt up past my knees and get down on all fours to chase my office supplies. "Ohh, come back come back!" Great. This is just how the roboguards are going to find me. On my hands and knees picking up crap. I wonder if they'll shoot me while I'm not looking or if they'll wait for me to finish and stand up before knocking me out and putting me in a holding cell for questioning when I revive. Damn this just isn't my day.  
  
And then, just like that, the alarm and the flashing lights shut off.  
  
Silence. Dead silence. Except for the buzzing lights overhead.  
  
Huh?  
  
"Do you need some help with that, Ms. Marshall?"  
  
.... I know that voice!   
  
"Uhm.." My skirt's clinging around my thighs now. Not high enough, thank god, for the guy behind me to get some free sex ed. But it's still high enough that if I sink my head to the floor and look through my legs I can put the voice with what I just know is a familiar face. And so I bend my back and neck towards the floor and look.  
  
Sure enough, an upside-down Professor Simon Hojo stands there looking exactly the same as when I last saw him. Same lab coat, same glasses, same long dark hair in a pony tail, same pale, vaguely sick look, same impassive face...well, at least that's what I'm guessing, 'cause I can't really see more of him than his black shoes and the cuffs of his grey pants.  
  
He brings his right hand up a little and shakes it in a small wave. Feeling the blood rush to my face, I shift my weight onto my left hand and throw an arm around my leg to wave back.  
  
"Oh... hello, Professor Hojo. Uh.... long time no see."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"Uh... sorry about the... my key card..."  
  
"Oh, it's quite alright. It's been doing that all morning. We've called maintenance three times now, but they haven't sent anyone to see to it." he sighs. "I suppose no one will until I go down and yell at them, either."  
  
Despite myself, I laugh. "Hahahah. You yelling at someone?! I can't imagine that." And I can't. I just can't see this guy ever using exclamation points.  
  
"Sometimes one has to yell to see results, Ms. Marshall."  
  
"Yeah, I guess so."  
  
A long, long silence. I wonder if a tumble weed just rolled by. Finally he speaks.  
  
"Ms. Marshall, have you hurt yourself? Do you need some assistance in getting off the floor?"  
  
"Huh?" The floor? What's he... oh! Oh yeah! Haha! I'm on the floor with my butt in the air! Haha! And he probably thinks I'm crazy! Haha! Eeee. "Oh no, that's okay. I'm fine." And I promptly show this by tripping on my shoe as I go to get up and then clipping my chin on the floor as I fall flat on my stomach. "I'm okay!!" I tell him as I bring a hand around my back to wave again. Oh my god. He must think I'm nuts.  
  
And as I'm scrambling to my feet, I feel a slender, cool hand slip beneath my left elbow. I freeze as another hand rustles against the inseam of my right arm. "Professor H-Hojo?!"  
  
But he's just steadying me as he helps me up. Haha. And here I was thinking he was going to cop a feel! Hey, he's pretty strong for an older guy... well, I mean...  
  
"Thanks," I tell him as I lean down to scoop the rest of my stuff into the overturned box. It takes a few minutes, because my supplies and papers have scattered all over the foyer with the ten thousand ceramic shards of my favorite coffee mug. Hojo seems to have a little trouble getting down... I mean, uhm... bending over to -- I mean he's helping me pick things up, right? And it seems like his back hurts him a little when he leans down to grab something. I wonder if he has a bad back, or if he just needs to gain a little muscle mass. He's practically a skeleton.   
  
"I am so sorry," I tell him as we put the last of the stuff in the box. "I guess it just slipped when I was..."  
  
"It's quite alright. But in the future, Ms. Marshall, please don't hit the key pad even if the spirit so moves."  
  
"Oh... Uh, I didn't break it I hope?"  
  
He shakes his head and giggles lightly. Eeegh! That giggle is so weird! "No more so than it already is, I'm sure. If you need to leave this floor at any time during your shift today, please borrow another worker's key card. I have a feeling this problem won't be fixed until tomorrow, no matter how loudly I yell."  
  
"Uh, alright," I pick the box up again as he slides his card through the stupid key pad. "Uhm... so, I guess we're working on the same floor, huh?" Wow, gee, Elena! Brilliant scientific observation. I bet he's soooo impressed by the depth of what you just said! Oh, why the heck is it getting to me?!  
  
"Yes. In fact, we happen to be heading in the same direction. If you're ready, I would be happy to show you to our office."  
  
"Oh thanks, Professor, 'cause I'm sure I'd just get lost anyw--" Buh? "Uh... did you just say 'our' office?" He nods. "Like... you meant offices, right?" He shakes his head. "Wait... we're in the same office?" He nods. "Isn't there like a typing pool up here or something?" What the hell kind of place is this?!  
  
"Did your letter not inform you?"  
  
Letter? "Inform me?"  
  
"Ms. Marshall, surely you know the situation. After hearing about the excellent work you did for the space program, I put in a request to have you transferred here as my personal secretary."  
  
..... "Ueeerk?"  
  
"Ueeerk? I don't understand. You were not informed?"  
  
"Uh..." I answer him by dropping the box again.  
  
(End Part 2) 


	4. Hojo: Crime, Punishment, Coffee and Asso...

May to December  
A FF7 Fan Fic  
Chapter 4: Hojo: Crime, Punishment, Coffee and Assorted Puddings  
by  
Lady Aoi  
  
Summary: Hojo's lab gets trashed by everyone's favorite FF7 villain. Who will help him clean up the mess?  
Rating: R for language, adult content, general Turkiness and Hojoness.  
Pairings: Hojo/Elena, Hojo/Scarlet.  
Disclaimer: The lovely Elena and the amazing Hojo are not my creations. They belong to Square Soft, as do the equally fantabulous Rude, Reno, Tseng, Heidegger, Scarlet, Sephiroth and any other characters who wander into this fic. Please don't sue me. I'd be really sad.  
Spoilers: If you don't know why Sephiroth would be in a Hojo fic, you may want to finish the game before reading anything past this sentence.  
Lady Aoi's Notes: Nothing, except a hearty thank you to everyone who has been following M2D so far. Your reviews and encouragement are appreciated.  
  
~*~  
  
"Simon, for god's sake! It's lunch time. Eat something!"  
  
"I happen to be in the process of eating, Scarlet."  
  
"Bah! Maybe a croissant and a cup of coffee count as breakfast for some people, but it's hardly lunch material."  
  
"Is that so?" I smile and lean forward over my tray. "Well, Scarlet, you should probably inform the kitchen staff of this oversight, for it appears to have had quite a history."  
  
"Is that so?" Scarlet's blue eyes twinkle mischievously as she bites into her apple. "Do tell, Simon. I would be fascinated to hear this history."  
  
"Well, as shocking as it may seem, the kitchen has served croissants and coffee as part of its lunch menu for the last thirty-five years."  
  
Scarlet's face twitches slightly. "You don't say. And would that have anything to do with your joining Shinra's staff at that particular time, dear Professor?"  
  
"I assure you, it did not. Although I *was* the man responsible for getting croissants put on the dinner menu."  
  
I always know I have gained the upper hand when I manage to get Scarlet to snort with laughter. And from her nose's tell tale twitching, I believe I am close.  
  
But for now, she stubbornly shakes her head. "You need to eat, Simon," she mutters as she attacks her salad. "You're getting so skinny I'm afraid I'll lose you in the sheets next time."  
  
"Oh, I wouldn't worry. You managed to find me easily yesterday afternoon without calling a search party."  
  
Yes, her nose is twitching dangerously now. "Most women want their lovers to weigh more than they do, you know."  
  
I nod sagaciously. "Such a good thing I'm not most women, then." As I predicted, this last comment achieves a loud snort.  
  
"Kyahahahahahaaa! Damn you, Simon Hojo. You know very well that isn't what I'm referring to!"  
  
"Yes," I take another sip of my coffee. "And you know very well what happens to women who become their lovers' mothers." I take a bite of my croissant as she scowls at me.  
  
"Fine. But don't blame me when you starve yourself to death."  
  
"Oh, you needn't worry about that, my dear Undersecretary of Urban Development. Dead men tend not to blame anyone for anything." Just ask Vincent Valentine if you don't believe me.  
  
Instead of asking Vincent, however, Scarlet scowls. "Simon, have you forgotten already?" It is more a threat than a question.  
  
Forgotten? "No, you were born on August twelfth, and August twelfth won't come for another two hundred sixty-five days."  
  
"I was referring to my promotion, my dear professor. If you will recall, our esteemed employer made me co-chair of Weapons Development last Tuesday."  
  
Oh. "Of course. My apologies."  
  
"Heh. Are you apologizing because you forgot or because I was only given the position to shame Heidegger?"  
  
"The answer to that question depends, of course, on whether you are planning to stick your fork into that tomato or into my right eye."  
  
"Don't give me ideas." But she smiles and puts the utensil down to gently caresses the back of my hand. "Maybe if you ate more than an anorexic fourteen year old, you would be able to remember more than the details of your latest project."  
  
"Maybe. But now that you've mentioned work, Scarlet…"  
  
She holds up a red-gloved hand. "No, don't tell me. You have to be getting back to yours instead of spending a relaxing lunch *hour* with me. Hour, of course, being the operative word, Simon."  
  
"Maybe we can spend a full hour tomorrow," before I can rise, however, a commotion at the other end of the cafeteria catches my attention.  
  
"Hey, numbnuts! Betcha twenty gil I make the basket."  
  
"You will not."  
  
"Twenty gil, fucknut! What's the matter? Scared of losing?"  
  
"No, I'm scared you're going to be broke again by the end of the week and come crying to me for your booze, asshole."  
  
"Bullshit! Twenty gil I make it, Rude."  
  
"Hey, fine. A fool and his money…"  
  
"Who ya calling a fool, dickface?"  
  
Rude? That name sounds familiar. And apparently, Scarlet thinks so, too, if the annoyed look she is giving the voices behind me is any indication.  
  
"Scarlet?" I turn and follow her gaze to a pair of very familiar black suited men, one bald, one with an unruly head of red hair… ah. It's the charming guards I saw passed out in front of Elena's hospital room yesterday! Although I cannot say their current behavior is any more endearing, as Red is currently trying to shove a protesting Baldy into the nearest wall.  
  
"Disgusting," Scarlet mutters, causing me to turn to face her again.   
  
"Disgusting?"  
  
"Those idiots in the black suits," Scarlet shakes her head. "Although I have always admired Tseng, I am beginning to believe Shinra and Heidegger were wrong in making him a Turk at such a tender age. He may have deserved the honor, but it nevertheless created a disturbing precedent." Scarlet clenches her fist and her scowl only deepens. "Now every foul-mouthed reprobate teenager who kisses Heidegger's fat ass is instantly promoted to Turk second class. And of course, they have to come here to belch and curse their lunch hour away."  
  
"Terrible." Although I'm not exactly sure what I should tell her. Surely she cannot believe that *any* Turk is truly calm, well behaved and sober at any given time… with, possibly, the exception of Tseng. Ah, yes, pretty boy Tseng… talented, intelligent, wonderful pretty, pretty Tseng…how much he reminds me of another Turk pretty boy; a pretty boy who couldn't keep his pretty nose in his own pretty business. A pretty little thing who liked other men's pretty things… and I don't just mean he wanted my wife. He wanted much more from me than that… Yes, pretty boy Tseng. I know your type. And I have my eye on you. You best stay away from the pretty cadet… or I will find a way…  
  
"Heads up, Rude! Watch 'er fly!"  
  
And then something wet and cold hits me in the back of the neck.   
  
"Uh…oh!"  
  
Instantly, I am jarred from my fantasies of strangling Tseng with his own hair by an heavy, oozing… something in my own. Puzzled, I look to Scarlet for help. But Scarlet is no longer home. Her sharp blue eyes are currently the size of bottle caps, and her mouth is opened in a surprised 'O'.   
  
"Scarlet?" I touch my fingers to the back of my head. The sample I take away from this mess is cream colored, cold and the consistency of pudding. I raise my fingers to my nose with scientific curiosity. It smells like pudding. I flick my tongue over the sample. Vanilla. Hm.  
  
I have just been hit in the back of the head with a cup of vanilla pudding. Said vanilla pudding was thrown by a seventeen-year-old Turk second class. Said Turk second class is now sputtering frightened obscenities somewhere behind me.  
  
I am going to kill said Turks Second Class.  
  
"Oh shit…" Red whimpers as I rise from my chair and turn to face him. And to his dubious credit, he truly *does* look frightened. "Uh… Rude," he says to Baldy. "I think uh now would be a good time to run."   
  
"I think I agree." However, both Turks are unable to make it to the cafeteria door before I have raised my hand and cast Slow over them. As the boys' speed drops to at least five-eighths of their original velocity, Scarlet finds her speech again.  
  
"Simon? Don't forget that they're young, inexperienced boys." I can hardly keep myself from licking my lips at the sight of her cruel smile. "Kill them slowly and tell me all about it in bed tonight."  
  
"Of course, my dear," I shake my head as a panicking Red falls to his knees amid a flurry of 'oh shits' and like profanities. I must hand it to him. His feeble curse words have made the already ominous silence that descended upon this space after the pudding's landing even more effective.  
  
"Now, why on earth are you in such a hurry, gentlemen?" Both boys stop moving entirely to give me a classic 'caught in the headlights' look as I stride towards them.   
  
"Uh… ohh, you know us, sir! No particular reason! Ain't that right, Rude?" Baldy nods his assent then shoots Red a glare that anyone save a complete blithering idiot would recognize as a clarion call to shut the hell up.  
  
Sadly, it seems intelligence is not Red's strong suit, for he continues to ramble. "Um… auhm… hey, Professor, listen… I'm real sorry about that! You see, I was aiming for the trash to your left and…"  
  
I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "The only things you were aiming for were a cheep laugh from your buddy and the opportunity to disgrace yourself and your uniform." Sometimes it doesn't hurt one to take a page from Heidegger's blank notebook, especially when dealing with his suited clowns. And sure enough, I have torn out the appropriate page. I can actually see the sweat beading on Red's brow. "Now then. Who is the person responsible for letting you out of your cages, hmmm?"  
  
"I am responsible for them, Professor Hojo," Ahh, yes. That firm, humorless and oh-so-passive voice can only belong to one ingratiating sycophant.  
  
  
"Tseng," A large glob of pudding chooses this particular moment to slide beneath my collar and down my back. I think I may never look at the stuff again.  
  
Pretty Boy regards Baldy and Red sternly before acknowledging me with a nod. "Professor, if you would be so good as to inform me of the situation—"  
  
"I would be most happy to inform you, Tseng, as you were too busy doing anything *but* your job when your trainees went on a rampage." Tseng just stands there looking soooo very concerned and dedicated. I would enjoy injecting his veins with acid. "They proceeded to use language more suited for a bar than the work place. And then they hit me with a pudding."  
  
"A pudding, sir?"  
  
"Yes, a pudding, Tseng. Perhaps you've heard of them."  
  
"Yes, sir. I know what a pudding is."  
  
"Then perhaps you have failed to see the pudding currently dripping from my hair?"  
  
  
"No, sir," Tseng replies implacably. "I see the pudding in your hair."  
  
"And what are you going to do about the pudding in my hair, Turk?" I do not shout, I do not challenge, and yet my gaze is enough to inform Pretty that I mean business.  
  
But for his part, Pretty remains unfazed. He blinks, reaches into his breast pocket and removes a small white handkerchief.   
  
"Is this sufficient, sir?" I simply stare as he shakes the wrinkles from it and hands it over as if it were a holy relic. I do not reward this behavior by taking, or even acknowledging it with more than a scowl. From behind me, the half-paralyzed trainees begin to snicker and guffaw uncontrollably. And is it a trick of the mako lamps, or is Pretty himself trying to suppress a subtle sneer?  
  
They will *all* pay for this…  
  
"Tseng," I give Pretty boy an almost deadly smile and take just the smallest step forward. "Call me crazy…"  
  
"Crazy," I hear one of the Twerps giggle softly.  
  
"But I fail to see the humor of the situation as clearly and poignantly as you and your friends apparently do."  
  
"I did not say the situation was humorous, sir," Pretty pauses and looks me over. "I merely suggested that you take the handkerchief." And he offers it to me again as he daubs at his lower lip with a long index finger. "And if I may say so, sir, you also have a little…right here, sir."  
  
I will not dignify him by licking the large bread crumb away. I will *not*.  
  
"Ah," I continue as if he had never made the previous imbecilic observation. "Then perhaps you will find similar humor in the written report of this situation I am going to place on General Heidegger's desk before the end of my lunch break, hmmm?"  
  
"Do as you wish, sir."  
  
Even at my age, it would be surprisingly easy to just step forward right now and kick him square in the –  
  
"Simon," I turn around as an arm wraps gently through my own. Scarlet stands behind me, concern shimmering in her deep blue eyes. "Simon, didn't you say you had to return to work now?"  
  
I simply stare at the woman. Two minutes ago, she offered me sexual favors in return for homicide. I now feel inclined to ask her to declare her true allegiance before god and country.   
  
"Simon," she leans forward and smoothes some hair away from my ear. "Don't kill all three of them, Simon. I actually have some respect for Tseng." Oh yes, my dear, I'm certain you do. That is a common flaw among women… and some men, it would seem, if alcohol was not Reeve's primary motive for praising Pretty's eyes so loudly and frequently at the last company party.   
  
"And besides," Scarlet chuckles as she lightly and quickly nips at my ear. "He's flying me down to investigate Gongaga's reactor today… it seems my idiot co-chair hasn't done a damn thing about those reports of an imminent breech we've been receiving lately. And I really do need Tseng's help…"  
  
My god, the things she'll do for sex! The things I will do for sex... and if I humiliate Scarlet's boy toy of the hour, I will probably end up spending the night in my office, with my nose pressed to my computer's 'y' key again. Why bother, indeed? "Very well."   
  
I pull away from Scarlet's touch and do not turn to give Pretty even the most causal of glances on my way to the cafeteria door. But do not think I am going to let you off the hook so easily, Pretty. "I will speak to you later about this matter, Turk."  
  
"Of course, sir," Don't worry, Scarlet. I will make certain not to hurt his pretty face… too much.  
  
But I cannot promise as much for the Twerps second class who immediately begin sniggering when they believe I am out of ear shot. I am reminded of two spoilt children sneering after being saved from due punishment by a doting mother hen. As soon as their doting mother leaves with Scarlet this afternoon, however, I will certainly see to it that they will never sneer or giggle in my presence again. If I am in a particularly generous mood, I will accomplish this without removing their tongues.  
  
But the moment the security door opens to the sixty eighth floor proper, I am forced to forget about the three little Twerps entirely.  
  
I am forced, in fact, to forget about everything short of preserving my own life.  
  
From the looks of things, the entire floor has just been ravaged by at least one natural disaster. Files, papers, broken glass, entire sheets of aluminum and pink insulation… a sea of devastation; a sea littered with the odd white-coated human island. Hm. Odd that I don't see any blood. Mindful of my weak back even in this crisis, I kneel beside the nearest lab assistant, slide two fingers against her jugular and press lightly. A strong and hearty young pulse pushes back, assuring me that she is alive… but asleep. The other three technicians in this hallway have also been knocked out by Sleepel… and an unusually strong Sleepel, too. But who would have done this? Did one of my precious specimens break loose during my absence?   
  
And just as I silently vow never to take a lunch break again, I sense something… something is moving at the far end of this hallway…  
  
… Something is in my office.  
  
… And I know this something… rather this someone. And this someone has been officially missing for the last five years.   
  
This someone has also just noticed my presence and has just seated himself on my desk to… sense my presence in return?   
  
I am beginning to wonder if working at Shinra, Inc. without carrying at least five materia at any given time could count as occupational suicide. Nevertheless, this individual is waiting for me in my office… and I suppose I should speak to him.  
  
He is my son, after all. And currently he is sitting on my desk with his masamune sword spread over his lap. To my horror, I also see that he has also consumed the entire pot of coffee I brewed before lunch.  
  
I will have to teach him a lesson.  
  
"Sephiroth," my voice is stern as I step over the twisted metal remnants of my door. "If you really are this desperate to speak with me in the future, might I recommend using the telephone before bashing my front door down?"  
  
My son's mako-green eyes flicker at the sight of me. A low, sardonic laugh escapes his lips as he swings off my desk. "What's the matter, Hojo? Bothered by a little mess in your life?" A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. "Besides, we both know you wouldn't answer even if I called. You never answer the phone."  
  
"Be that as it may, a little mess I can handle. The destruction of my entire lab, on the other hand, tends to make me rather upset."  
  
Sephiroth's eyes glisten dangerously. "Good."  
  
Apparently, play time is over. "Sephiroth," I fully enter the room and cross my arms over my chest. "If you honestly think I find this sort of willful destruction amusing, then I would advise you to pull your head out of your ass and think again." Sephiroth shrugs. "Now, regardless of whatever punitive grudge you are holding against me at the moment –"   
  
"The word 'grudge' doesn't even begin to cover it, Hojo."  
  
"—Whatever punitive grudge you are holding against me at the moment," I continue, ignoring this little interruption. "You would not have broken past Shinra security forces in order to vandalize my office for a cheep laugh." Ignoring Sephiroth's tight grip on the hilt of his sword, I advance towards him slowly, my arms held at akimbo. "Now, Sephiroth, what is your real motive, hmm?" Surely the boy wouldn't risk being recaptured by Shinra just to piss his old man off.  
  
Sephiroth merely smiles at me. It is a dangerous smile. "Can't a man visit his mother in prison?"  
  
"Your mother?" Ohh. Of course. He means *Her*…"And now that you've seen Jenova, may I kindly ask you to leave?"  
  
"You may ask all you like, Hojo… but I may not listen."  
  
"And if you don't stop waving that sword around like a party favor, Sephiroth, I'm going to turn you over my knee and spank you." Sephiroth's eyes glow dangerously, but he lowers his masamune. Indignantly, I straighten my tie. "Now, please stop trying to one up me and explain *why* you felt the burning desire to destroy my entire department in the process of visiting your… mother."  
  
Sephiroth licks his lips. "Because I enjoy making you suffer."  
  
That was… truly disturbing. Even for a man like me. "Sephiroth, you have not made me suffer. You have just made me want to cut off your allowance and send you to bed without supper."  
  
"Stop mocking me!"  
  
"If I truly wanted to mock you, boy, I would have added 'grounded you for life' to that list."  
  
Sephiroth is an intelligent boy, and as such he must know when he has been outwitted. But my silver-haired child has never been much of a good looser, I'm afraid. "This isn't the end of it, Hojo," he spits as he shoulders his masamune and storms toward the exit.  
  
"Oh, but I think it is. Now why don't you go back into hiding like a good little boy, hmm?" God knows, that would certainly make my life easier.  
  
Sephiroth spins at the door and points wildly at me. "Be careful, old man," he hisses. "I know you're up to something… I can sense it. I always know what you're thinking, whether you're aware of it or not."  
  
Actually, I am. Our shared Jenova cells probably account for our slightly empathic bonding… that and the mere fact that Sephiroth is obsessed with me. Quite unhealthy, really. Even so, this last threat *is* rather a cause for alarm. "What do you mean, Sephiroth?"  
  
His smile is dangerously cold. "I know you're planning on conducting another human experiment, for one thing. And not with a clone this time."   
  
…Oh, Hell. "I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
Sephiroth shakes his head. Sadly, a telepathic link never lies, no matter how weak it is. How can it? "True, I don't know the specifics, but it's only a matter of time, Hojo. And I'll be damned you'll use Mother in another of your sick experiments, you quack."  
  
"Then I suppose you'll have to be damned," I adjust my glasses again. "And Sephiroth? I resent being called a quack."  
  
"You're not even half the scientist Gast was." And with that he turns and leaves my office.  
  
"Is that so?" I shout at his retreating form. How interesting. We've talked for the last ten minutes, and he still hasn't insulted my manhood –  
  
"Or half the man. In more ways than one, I might add." And then he vanishes. Like smoke.  
  
…Ah yes. He never fails to disappoint. I must hand it to the boy, he does, indeed, have his father's tongue.  
  
And from the looks of it, his father's sense of humor. "SEPHIROTH!!!"   
  
My last bucket of coffee grounds is gone. How typical.  
  
I will not lose my temper… I will not lose my temper…  
  
I will just sigh, wonder why I became a father, and call for the appropriate materia to wake my employees so we can begin cleaning this floor… and concoct a decent explanation for them and for Shinra while I'm at it.  
  
And tonight, when this is all over, I am going to invite Scarlet over to my apartment and prove the little bastard wrong.  
  
~*~  
  
Sadly, it seems that Sephiroth has done more damage to my laboratory than even I had suspected. Damage that takes the combined efforts of myself, my staff, and a good number of Shinra's maintenance team a year to put right. And even then, the work remains incomplete. Sephiroth also saw fit to damage many of my files and databases beyond my patience or… ability to repair. I may be a brilliant man, but even I cannot understand what kind of virus he put into three of my data bases. And I lack the patience and the mere stamina to sort through the hard copies of files my son felt the need to tear apart and entirely mix up.   
  
I do, however, have the sudden urge to re-think fathering another child… but thankfully, said urge is passing. After all, my project has now been officially delayed for a year, thanks to my son's meddling. And it seems the career of my specimen has been similarly placed on the back burner. When I next check Elena Marshall's file, I discover that my sweet cadet is no longer a cadet. She is now a secretary, and currently wasting away working for that idiot Matthew Palmer.   
  
  
Hmm. Interesting. According to this personnel report, Ms. Marshall makes a surprisingly good secretary! I say surprising only because her profile made her out to sound like the model soldier last year. Now, however… types 99 wpm, made improvements on all office software, fixes things around the office better and faster than maintenance can…   
  
And coffee… she knows how to operate a coffee machine! Ahhhhh… lovely, smart, and knows her decaff from her cappuccinos… I may just fall in love.  
  
Well, that settles it. I must get a secretary. And I must get one today, before my charming son pays me another visit.  
  
~*~  
  
"A secretary?" Palmer asks, looking up from his plate.   
  
I smile indulgently at the man and nod. "Yes, Matthew. A secretary. Please, have some more doughnuts."   
  
Palmer watches my hand with a mixture of suspicion and interest as I gently push the plate closer. And after a moment, interest wins. "Hey, thanks!" He snatches two glazed doughnuts and grins at me.   
  
I manage a small smile back. "Please, if you want anything else, don't hesitate to ask! Lunch is on me today." Agh. And next time you are buying, my friend. We've already amassed quite the bill. The things I will do for science… and a pretty woman.  
  
"So what about this secretary?" Palmer asks through a mouthful of chocolate doughnut. I try to respond politely… even though being polite to this… thing is giving me a headache.  
  
"That's just the thing, Matthew. I'm not exactly sure what to look for in one." Because I have never felt the urgent need to pay another person to gossip on the telephone and meddle in my work eight hours a day, but that's beside the point.  
  
Palmer hrmms slightly, spewing crumbs onto the table. "Well, I always look for people that know what they're doing... people that don't get in the way, you know?"  
  
Yes, Matthew. I know all too well that you're descriptive powers barely rival those of most below average four-year-olds, but must you drive the point home so? "I think I understand…" Idiot. I sigh and give him my most troubled face. "But nowadays, the problem is really finding good secretaries, isn't it?" Palmer nods furiously. "…Although, from what I've been hearing lately, you've been rather fortunate in that area, haven't you?"  
  
"Fortunate? Hey, are you gonna eat that éclair?"  
  
No, Palmer. Because it's already on your plate. "Please, Matthew, feel free." Yes, please do.   
  
Palmer just shakes his head. "It's amazing that you're still with us, Simon. You barely eat enough to keep a bird alive!"  
  
I simply give him an indulgent smile. While you, my dear sir, eat more than enough in one day to keep Heidegger's entire army alive. "Oh, I manage somehow."  
  
"Anyway," Palmer continues as he pours himself another glass of milk. "You wanted to ask me what's my secret in finding good secretaries for the Space Department, right?"  
  
I can't help but giggle. Really, it's so easy to get what one wants from this man! "You could say that, yes."  
  
"Well, the secret is…" Matthew looks left, looks right, looks behind him, then turns back to me and beckons me closer until I can almost taste the éclair on his breath. "…It's all about reviewing their personnel files and then picking the ones you like! Hey hey!" He looks expectantly at me then. Although expecting what I cannot safely say.  
  
  
Instead I merely nod. "Ah, I see. I must be on the right track, then, because that's precisely what I did this afternoon!"  
  
"Can I have the rest of your croissant, Simon?"  
  
"Please," a croissant is a small price to pay for a specimen after all. "As I was saying, I went through a few files today, and I believe I may have found the right secretary for me." Aaaand now it's time to see if you're really as stupid as you act, my friend. "She's one of the mid-level secretaries on your floor, in fact."  
  
"Huh?" Instantly Palmer is possessive. "What are you looking at my people for, Simon?"   
  
I hold up my hand to pacify him. "Please, Matthew, let me explain. I merely wanted to gauge the caliber of secretarial talent in the Space Department… as your department has quite the reputation for its excellent secretaries."  
  
"Oh." I believe I lost him at "caliber". "Okay…"  
  
"And I was just about to log off when I discovered a profile for a Ms. Elena Marshall."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"A Ms. Elena Marshall. She is a secretary in your department, Matthew." Although given that she's a blonde secretary in your department, your ignorance is understandable. You don't much care for blondes, do you? Strike that. You don't much care for anything you can't eat or shoot into space.  
  
"Oh. Well, what about this Ms. Marshall?"   
  
"From the looks of her profile, I believe she and I would get along rather well."  
  
"You and she would get along rather well?" Palmer really is beginning to sound more like a parrot every day. I wonder if I should tell him Heidegger is considering dressing up as a pirate for the company Halloween party. Gyo ho ho and a bottle of rum… and he could even feed Palmer doughnuts.  
  
"Simon?"  
  
Ohh, yes. Back to gulling the village idiot. "Ah. As I was saying, I believe Ms. Marshall is would be the perfect secretary for me. According to her profile, she can type twenty words per minute."  
  
Palmer looks confused. "Twenty?"  
  
"Oh, I admit that's a tiny bit slow, but I'm sure she'll come up to speed eventually!" I take another sip of my coffee. "And look at it this way, Matthew. My office has no fax machine, no photo copier, no laser printer and no telephone system!" I pause, sagaciously, to think, my index finger resting on my lips. "To be honest, we don't even have much of a mainframe," I say after an appropriately long and dramatic pause. "So, really, there isn't much she can break this time around, as it were."  
  
Palmer is actually looking a little sick now. "Th—this time around?"  
  
"Oh, I do know you've had some problems with her in the past, especially that bag of 50,000 gil in donations for the space program went missing, but you can hardly blame *that* on the poor girl! Even if she was the only person with the key to the safe…"  
  
For once in his life time, I believe Matthew Palmer has lost his appetite. He stares at me as if I've just lost my mind and then opens his mouth. But only a strangled little squeak comes out of it for the next three minutes. And when, at last, he recovers his voice, he says only two words to me before hopping to his feet.  
  
"Take her." And then he snatches the box of doughnuts and storms out of the room.  
  
"Thank you, Matthew! I'm sure she and I will get along very well!" I call after him. He merely grunts in reply.  
  
And yes. I do intend upon taking her.   
  
~*~  
  
It's only a matter of some simple paperwork. Of course, Palmer won't handle the dismissal of such a 'terrible' secretary himself. He leaves that up to another secretary, who is easily persuaded to simply write 'transfer requested' on Elena's file. This way, the dear girl's career will not be affected adversely, nor will she know of my meddling in her sudden job change. All that remains now is to sufficiently clean the office in front of mine out and wait for her arrival. And while waiting for her, I believe I will go back to the cafeteria and get another croissant. Hopefully the broken key pad will accept my swipe card upon my return.   
  
On my way back up the stairs to the sixty-eighth floor, I realize someone has already beaten me to an embarrassing situation involving the broken floor door. The faint whimpering underneath the flashing lights and wailing sirens also informs me that this someone is probably my embarrassed new secretary.  
  
Upon rounding the staircase to the sixty-eighth floor's landing, my foot promptly connects with something that lets out a loud squeak. Squeak? I look down to notice a small, plush chocobo pinned beneath my foot. Curious. It seems the entire landing is littered with such things. Teddy bears, pictures, packets of bubble gum, a broken coffee mug or three and, here and there, a few mundane office supplies.  
  
And in the middle of this mess kneels my lovely new secretary, bottom up, tailored grey skirt hiked up well around her slender thighs and currently wiggling and whimpering as she reaches towards a pile of pens.  
  
…   
  
…   
  
…  
  
I really should turn off the alarm now. The roboguards will be here in minutes.   
  
…  
  
…  
  
Indeed, I do not wish to explain this situation to them.  
  
…  
  
…  
  
It is a most complex and awkward situation, after all.  
  
…  
  
…  
  
Well, alright. Once more. But only for science's sake. After all, I didn't get a very good look at Ms. Marshall upon our first meeting. Thus, I need to check now to note any physical blemishes or imbalances that would possibly complicate the experi—  
  
Oh, hell.  
  
…  
  
…  
  
…  
  
…  
  
…  
  
I reach over and enter my alarm override code into the key pad and remove my glasses to let the lasers perform the requisite retina scan. The computer confirms that I am, indeed, Simon Hojo and instantly the alarms and lights cease.   
  
Silence reigns for a few moments as Elena continues to kneel, her hand half-touching a stack of papers.   
  
  
  
At last, I speak. "Do you need some help with that, Ms. Marshall?"  
  
"Uhm.." With the lighting back to normal, I can now see that the poor girl's ears are quite red. Ahh… a body blusher. And then she sinks her head to the floor to peer at me from between her legs. Although I am certain she cannot see me at this angle, I give her a friendly smile and a small wave. Strange. Elena then returns my wave. Perhaps she can see me… if so she must be incredibly flexible…  
  
…  
  
…  
  
…  
  
That settles it. As soon as we've cleaned this mess up, I'm calling Scarlet.  
  
  
"Oh... hello, Professor Hojo." I nod and smile back at the girl. "Uh.... long time no see."  
  
"Indeed." I seem to have made quite the impression on her.  
  
"Uh... sorry about the... my key card..."  
  
"Oh, it's quite alright. It's been doing that all morning." And all yesterday, the day before, and… "We've called maintenance three times now, but they haven't sent anyone to see to it." I sigh and adjust my glasses. "I suppose no one will until I go down and yell at them, either."  
  
From her… rather awkward but certainly becoming position on the floor, Elena laughs heartily. "Hahahah. You yelling at someone?! I can't imagine that."  
  
  
I can safely say, however, that the rest of this corporation can. "Sometimes one has to yell to see results, Ms. Marshall."  
  
"Yeah, I guess so."  
  
We say nothing for a moment. I try desperately not to admire the view.  
Perhaps if I said something. "Ms. Marshall, have you hurt yourself? Do you need some assistance in getting off the floor?" Ah, perfect idea.  
  
"Huh? Oh no, that's okay. I'm fine." Elena promptly demonstrates this by catching her shoe in her skirt's hem and performing a rather inelegant belly-flop which scatters a few pencils and hard candies to the entry way's furthest corners. "I'm okay!!" She brings her hand around to wave at me again. Despite myself, I have to smile. Sexy, intelligent, beautiful *and* entertaining… such a precious specimen you are, Ms. Marshall. But enough is enough.  
  
As the girl tries to stand, I slip my hands beneath her arms and raise her back onto her feet.   
  
"Professor H-Hojo?!" I make a mental note not to touch the girl unless absolutely necessary for the time being. She seems very… sensitive to personal contact.  
  
  
"Thanks," She gives me an embarrassed little smile and then stoops to pick up the rest of her items. I should be a gentleman and help her, no? Slowly, I bend down to grab the nearest pen and… abruptly receive a loud and painful complaint from my lower back. Ah, yes. Even Don Quixote needs be reminded of his mortality at times. Such a pity Elena had to see my wince.   
  
"I am so sorry," she apologizes as we pack the final items into her box. "I guess it just slipped when I was..."  
  
"It's quite alright," I glance over at the key pad. Its lights are still flashing wildly. Of course. She caved into temptation and hit the damn thing. "But in the future, Ms. Marshall, please don't hit the key pad even if the spirit so moves."  
  
"Oh... Uh, I didn't break it I hope?" She looks truly chagrined, like a cat coming reluctantly in from the rain with a dead mouse in its jaws.   
  
I cannot help but laugh. "No more so than it already is, I'm sure." After all, I hit the damn thing twice this morning. "If you need to leave this floor at any time during your shift today, please borrow another worker's key card. I have a feeling this problem won't be fixed until tomorrow," or twenty years from now "no matter how loudly I yell."  
  
  
"Uh, alright," Elena shoulders her box as I swipe my key card. Thankfully, the temperamental pad accepts my identification and the door unlocks without further incident.  
  
"Uhm..." Elena stammers as we step over the threshold. "So, I guess we're working on the same floor, huh?" My god, she really is quite charming… but so nervous. Palmer certainly couldn't have worked her into such self-doubt, could he have? Or is it something more…  
  
  
"Yes. In fact, we happen to be heading in the same direction. If you're ready, I would be happy to show you to our office."  
  
"Oh thanks, Professor," a genuine smile from her at last! "Cause I'm sure I'd just get lost anyw--" Elena's lips snap closed like the buds of a flower in a tempest. They quiver slightly with trepidation as her brow slowly creeps upwards. "Uh... did you just say 'our' office?"   
  
Yes, my dear.  
  
"Like... you meant offices, right?"   
  
No, my dear.  
  
"Wait... we're in the same office?"   
  
Cozy, isn't it?  
  
"Isn't there like a typing pool up here or something?"   
  
If there was, I assure you I would have fed most of them to my beloved H0512 by now. He is a growing boy, after all…  
  
  
"Did your letter not inform you?" Of course it did not. No one would willingly accept a job as my personal secretary if given prior warning!  
  
"Inform me?" She looks truly confused. I really should stop teasing her.  
  
"Ms. Marshall, surely you know the situation. After hearing about the excellent work you did for the space program, I put in a request to have you transferred here as my personal secretary."  
  
Elena simply blinks in reply. And then a sound like that made by a dying chocobo escapes her lips.  
  
"Ueeerk?"  
  
"Ueeerk?" How charming. "I don't understand. You were not informed?"  
  
"Uh..." And for the second time that day, office supplies cover the floor.  
  
  
(End Part 4) 


	5. Elena: Work, Dating and Their Discontent...

May to December

Chapter 5: Elena: Work, Dating and Their Discontents

A FF7 Fan Fic

by

Lady Aoi

Summary: Elena begins working for Professor Hojo, much to "the guys'" displeasure. But what does Scarlet have to do with any of this?

Parings: Elena/Hojo and Scarlet/Hojo. Yep. Old Hojo.  

Rating: R. So rated for language, adult situations, Turkiness and Hojoness. 

Disclaimer: The awesome Elena and the lovely Hojo do not belong to me. Neither does the equally incredible Scarlet, Heidegger, Sephiroth, Reno, Rude, Tseng and anyone else from FFVII who wanders into this fic out of curiosity. They are all copyright Square Soft. Please don't sue me for loving them to distraction!  

Lady Aoi's Notes: I'm sorry for the lateness of the updates. I had Chapter 5 all but done, but then the disc I was working on went… well, bad, somehow and erased half of the story. I got frustrated and took a break for awhile, to give Palmer, Heidegger and Scarlet some fics and to work on my novel. Expect updates to return to normal now that I've learned my lesson about discs the hard way. SAVE AND SAVE OFTEN, kids ^^;!

~*~

            "Soooo, 'Lena. What's the new job like? You seen any fucked up human experiments yet? BLAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" 

            "Oww! Jeeze, Reno!" I wince and hold my ear as Reno's 30 bajillion-decible scream tears through my head. "Yell like that again and I'll just let your damn bike fix itself!" 

            And of course, Reno takes this real serious. He just snorts and shoves his face into mine while pulling his lower eyelids down and sticking his tongue out.

            "I'm one of Professor Hojo's experiments! And I vant to schuck youd blooogd! Blah blah blaaaaah!!"

            "Arrrgh! Rude, tell your buddy to knock it off or I'll jamb this socket wrench right up his ass. Then his face'll stay like that forever!"

            "Fuck, your mouth's getting nasty, 'Lena! Who the fuck teaches you to talk shit like that?"

            The rim on the basket pings as Rude misses the next shot. "You guys are messing up my game."

            "Not that I mind," Tseng chuckles the ball rolls over to his feet. "Rude here's buying if he loses... or should I say when he loses?"

            Rude just looks at him and shakes his head. I shrug and go back to work fixing the spokes on Reno's bike. It's Saturday afternoon and for once we've decided to take it easy. We're hanging out in the old neighborhood in Sector 5 where we grew up... well, some of us, that is. Tseng didn't grow up here. If he had, you better believe I wouldn't've spent the night of my seventeenth birthday in the back of Blake "Peedy" Parker's beat up old car. Eww! He even smelled like peedy, too, and that made the whole thing just that much worse! No, I bet if Tseng had been their instead, he woulda been a real gentleman. He woulda put some romantic music on the radio, maybe brought a bottle of champagne, or maybe even chocolates and flowers. All Peedy brought was some chocolate flavored lube, and it was old and tasted like crap. And I'd bet real Gil Tseng doesn't think 'foreplay' is a football term. Or that foreplay is football, either. Ugh. That's just so sad he was born all the way over in Wutai. I bet he made some girl over there real happy, lucky bitch. 

            Wowwwww. They've been playing for an hour and Tseng hasn't even broke a sweat! And he's kicking Rude's butt, too! Now that -- *that* is the kinda guy I wanna marry! Only I'd order him to take his shirt off every time he played Rude or -- hehe-- NO SEX FOR YOU, TONIGHT MISTER! Yeah. Mhh... shirt less Tseng.... waiiiiiii...

            "What the -- shit, 'Lena, stop undressing Tseng with your eyes and fix my damn bike!"

            Meep! "Hu-what?!" I yelp as I blink blink my way back from the lovely wedding and 2.4 kids Tseng and I are gonna have to the harsh reality of Reno barking in my face. 

            "Yeah, we all know you want him, but can you keep your priorities straight, please? God almighty."

            "I -- I wasn't looking at anything!" I eep as I grab my wrench and duck my head down to finish unbending the spokes. Reno's suck a freaking jerk. Someday when he has a crush on someone, I swear I'm gonna seize control of the Shinra Emergency Broadcast System and announce it to the whole world. Haha! That'll show him.

            "Uh-huh, right," Reno snorts. He plunks down next to me and throws an arm around my shoulders. "So, 'Lena, really now. How is it working for that dried up old stick of a professor?"

            I shrug out of his hold and bang the wrench into the spoke. "He's not dry and he's not an old stick, either," I tell him. "He's actually a pretty cool guy."

            "Yeah, and I also have a beachfront property in Sector Two I'd like to sell you."

            "Cut it out, Reno!" Damn, this spoke's bent funny. "There's nothing wrong with Professor Hojo!"

            "Well, aside from the dead bodies in his freezer, I'm sure he's just peachy."

            "What bodies?! Reno, for the last time, he's not some psycho mad scientist from a cheep horror movie! He usually just works on the computer all day and drinks coffee," Reno just snorts. "Okay, so maybe he's a bit nasty to some of the technicians, but so? He's not even ten percent as bad as Heidegger."

            "Well, okay. So I guess you won't mind telling us all about what a day as his ... ahem... personal secretary's like, then?"

            "Yeah, I would, 'cause it's none of your damn business!"

            Too late, though, Reno's already calling the guys over.

            "Hey, Rude, Tseng! Get over here! 'Lena's gonna spill her guts about Professor Fuckenstein."

            "And stop calling him that!" But too late, Tseng's already coming over. Aghgghghhg! I could just hit Reno sometimes!

            "Now this is a story I'd love to hear," Tseng says. 

            "But what about the..." Rude just shrugs and drops the ball. From the look on his face, I can guess he's probably buying drinks for us tonight. I wait until the guys and Tseng are all settled down around me before I start.

            "Well, basically, working for Professor Hojo's kinda like --"

            Yeah, I know I didn't complete that thought. It's 'cause I didn't say anything really important. I just told the guys and Tseng that the Professor doesn't like to answer the telephone, and that all the technicians are scared of him even though he doesn't hit or even yell, really. He's sarcastic, witty, real impatient…and he drinks a lot of coffee. No, a *lot* of coffee. No, Reno, he does not climb up into the rafters and make mad monkey noises after his tenth cup! Pay attention! And he's also real protective of his specimens. Reno got a real kick out of the fact that Hojo calls them 'my precious specimens', and then made some sick crack involving my boss and a bikini-clad slime mold from Costa del Sol. And that's when I just told them that work was pretty boring and to stop bugging me. And finally they got bored and went back to their basketball game and left me alone to fix the bike.

            Needless to say, I didn't tell them the whole story. 

            Here's what I left out. Three months ago, after making an ass out of myself by dropping my box of office stuff for the second time in ten minutes, Professor Hojo helped me clean the stuff up and walked me to his – our office.

            "Well, here we are," he said as he walked to the middle of the room and swept his arms out for effect. "Home sweet home… be it ever so humble."

            I wasn't even in that room for ten seconds and already I was freezing. Oh, the temperature was fine, but the color scheme? Everything in this room is grey, white, blue or black. And I mean everything except the wilted little aloe plant on top of a cabinet, and even it looks kinda grayish brown. Hey. He's a scientist, so he should know better! That poor plant needs light and air to grow! The entire south wall is covered with filing cabinets. One long cabinet running along the east, north and west walls and broken only by a locked metal door. A really ugly white and grey desk sits in the northwest corner. I guessed that was mine, unless it was Hojo's chair and he expected me to sit in his lap and take letters or something like that. Eek. That was random! There are also two windows in the room, both shaped like ovals. They pretty much cover half of the east and west walls, the top part that isn't taken up by that really weird cabinet that's been grafted into the room's walls. 

            "This will be your new office, Ms. Marshall."

Cheery. "Uh... it's ... nice I guess," I told him.

            He shrugged. He probably could have cared less. "Now, my office is through that door." He indicated the locked metal door. Well, I decided, guess we wouldn't be sharing a desk or a chair then, thank god. "Please do not enter it unless it is absolutely necessary for you to do so." He gave me a thin-lipped smile. "And that is not because I have human body parts lying around, Ms. Marshall. I simply like my privacy."

            "Uhm... okay." I really hope he's not gonna make a habit of bringing up this whole human experimentation thing. I mean, I'd just come out of a coma when I asked him about it, for heck's sake! But I got the feeling already that my new boss had a weird sense of humor, so I decided he wouldn't ever stop teasing me about this.

            The rest of the walk through was pretty basic, and just like I told the guys and Tseng. Coffee machine here. Computer there. Have coffee ready at all times during the day. All times! All times, Ms. Marshall. Not just mornings. Every minute! Switch computer on like this. Go to this file for work. Use computer to find out where 70,000 files have been lost and/or rearranged by 'that unfortunate accident we had a few months ago" and a bunch of bumbling technicians that outta be shot. Yes, Ms. Marshall, if you want target practice, feel free to do so. Do I really mean that? You tell me. Back to your duties. Track files down and return them to proper place. Answer the phone, dear. Did he just call me dear? Never interrupt the professor in his office and certainly *not* with a phone call. Make up any excuse I have to for idiot on other end of line. Be creative! Pretend I don't know the language or something. Bottom line: do as Hojo says, stay out of Hojo's way and Hojo will give me a raise. Hojo likes people that stay out of Hojo's way. Hojo has ways of not rewarding people that don't. Giggle giggle giggle giggle Hehehehehehe HA HA!

            God, he's weird.

            And then Professor Hojo shuffled into his office and shut the door. And that was it for introductions. So, I decided I'd better just sit down, suck up the fact the room reminded me of the hospital, and get to work.

            And work is about all I do for the next few months. Wow, someone really goofed with these files! It's like a huge whirlwind just tore through the records department and rearranged everything by random. I mean, I find a page from a file labeled Cetra-21B in a file labeled 'Wutai Strata Findings', and that's clear on the other end of the alphabet! Argh, this work can be so frustrating! Especially because the phone's always ringing, or some lab assistant is always wandering in to see Hojo with some stupid problem like "sir, the vending machine is broken again!" Uhm… okay, so not really on that last one. I fixed the vending machine last Tuesday, and no one ever really bugged Hojo about it, either. I was just kidding.

            But don't get me wrong. The work really *is* hard. And kind of boring some days, too. I mean, I just sit there in this little room all day sorting files on a computer, making coffee and every now and then saying hello to Hojo if he happens to come back into his office from… somewhere. That and regular secretary work, of course. Man, Hojo's great to work for and everything but… Ohhh, dammit! Why the hell did this have to happen?! I mean, if those stupid cadets would've just shown up like they were supposed to, I could be training now… or hell, who knows? Maybe on my way to making Turk. And instead, here I am in this freezing, ugly office with the most anti-social guy in the world sitting twelve feet away from me! And I'm kinda hungry and it's only eleven thirty, but…

            Oh screw it. I'm taking my lunch break.

            I press the intercom button. "Professor?" Yeah, I know the drill. It's never a good idea to bother him unless the building's on fire. And even then....but he did say he wants to be told when I'm going or coming back from anywhere. 

            "Yes?"

            "Uhm… I'm gonna take my lunch break now, if that's okay?"

            "Hmm…" I literally hold my breath as he pauses. And I know just what his face looks like now, too. I bet anything I do. He's got his chin resting in his left hand, his eyes are squinting slightly, his head tipped forward Isn't it a little early for lunch, Ms. Marshall?"

            Heh. Like he'd know. He never eats. "Uhm…well, okay I guess it can wait then." I'll just ignore my stomach rumbling for the next hour by trying to figure out what kinda drugs whoever screwed these files up was on. And whether or not I should ask for some.

            "Hmm…" I bet anything he's still looking at that speaker with his chin resting in his hand, thinking with that thoughtful look on his face. It's… he does that a lot. He usually giggles after doing so, and I wonder for a moment if he's about to giggle at me.

But he doesn't. "Very well, then," he finally says.

            I sit bolt up right. "Huh? Really?"

            And *then* comes the giggle. "Ms. Marshall, I am not your babysitter, nor am I your jailer. You are free to take your lunch hour whenever you wish, provided that you inform me before hand. And I only ask this in order to avoid confusion and aggravation on both our parts."

            Huh. Well, that was easy and painless enough, I guess. I'm not sure I know what to say but "T--thank you, sir."

            "It's quite alright. But would you be a dear and bring me back a croissant? I'm afraid I won't have time to get one this afternoon."

            Huh? A croissant? Didn't he eat breakfast or something? "Sir? Is that all you want for lunch?"

            "Yes. That is all I want for lunch."

            "Oh…" God, does he *ever* eat any *real* food?! "Okay then…I'll get you one."

            The intercom clicks off. I sigh and reach over to put my computer on stand by. I must not take it personally… I must not take it personally…. But damn. You think it'd kill the guy to say "thank you" every now and then! Jeeze!

            Ugh. I am so dreading going to lunch today. True, I need the break, but the food they serve in the cafeteria is just… blargh. If I eat one more cup of cream tomato soup with stale bread and limp salad I am going to say up with the proletariat and claim the kitchen for the people's good. 

            Either that or I'm going to eat out today.

            Hm… I glance down at my watch. It's 11:03 right now so… hrm. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes to walk to Midgar Plaza, twenty to get my food and enjoy it somewhat at a normal pace… and lets say twenty to get back to my desk, just in case… oh, and to pick up Hojo's croissant. Hrm… Hrm…

            Aw, hell. It's cutting it kinda close but I'm gonna chance it. I really don't think I can stand eating crap today.

            A few floors down, a few staircases, a few elevators and… presto! I'm outside in the street. And making pretty good time, too. Only 11:10. Seven minutes to get to the Plaza and my favorite place of all time…

            The Chocobo and Mog. No, it's not just a bar! And the only one isn't in the slums. It's a franchise… and rightly so! They make the best hamburgers anywhere! And I really, really want a hamburger right now. And some fries. And a really, really freakin' big … cola. And eeeee! They have apple pie again! And a big slice of apple pie, too! Wow! And the best thing is, they get your food to you real fast… and even if it takes awhile, you can watch chocobo races on the big screen TV. Hm. I wonder if I could do that, because it sure looks like fun…

            "Elena?"

            Mhh… yeah….I can just see it all now… the roar of the crowds… the smell of sweat in the air… sweat and money... we're at the Golden Saucer. And the races are just about to start. Shhh. The bookie's taking the last bets right now! 

Place yer bets, folks! Place yer bets! Thank you ma'am, thank ya sir… And who will you be betting on today, Mr. Palmer? Huh? Lard? No, sir. We don't have a Chocobo named Lard. Please make another selection. Eh? Golden Lightning? Ahhh. You mean the chocobo owned and ridden by the illustrious Elena Marshall herself! Yessir, raised him from a tiny little egg, she did. In between juggling her jobs as a weapons technician, mechanic, secretary and soldier. What's that, Mr. Heidegger? You remember beating her up once for doing a good job? Security, escort Mr. Heidegger from the building immediately! We mustn't have him upsetting our star jockey, ya know…

"Yo, 'Lena! Who-whoo!"

Thank ya, ma'am. Yep. Marshall's got great odds. Wins every nine outta ten races. Sometimes ten outta ten, too. You'll get triple return for your money, I guarantee it! Ohh. Look who just entered the stadium. That's Reno Larson, Marshall's biographer. And with him's her agent Rodger Miller. Big bald guy. Goes by the name of 'Rude'.  Ohh. You wanna know who that sexy guy with 'em is? Sorry, babe. He's taken. That's Tseng Nakahara. Marshall's husband. Comes to see her race every day, even if he is a Turk and a full-time Daddy, too! And ain't their ten kids just the cutest?!

"…… 'Lena…….?"

Eeee. No. Not ten kids. That's way too many. Maybe four… or three. Yeah. Three's a good size for a family. Where was I…?

Everyone knows she's the best. Look at all her adoring fans out there in the crowd. Huh… who's that in the corner? Is it… nooohhhhh….

"Elena? Eleeeeeenaaaaaaa…! Elena?"

            Why, it's… it's none other than Professor Simon Hojo himself. Huh. Wonder what a busy guy like that could be doin' here.

            "…..'Lena?"

            Wow, he's sure a forward one! Look at him walk right up to the starting line and… what's that? Can it be…

            "Elena?!"

            It's a bunch of red roses… and he's presenting them to Marshall!

            "Elena?!"

            He's getting down on one knee folks and holding the roses up. And the look on his face? He's giggling. The man is actually giggling! Woah! Hold the phone! And so's Marshall! She's getting off the chocobo…

            "Elena!!"

            She's sitting on his knee…

            "Elena!!!"

            She's leaning in… she's smiling… he's smiling…. Aaaand we have make out! Hubba hubba hubba hubba. Look at 'em go! Woo-hoo!

            "ELENA!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

            "GYAAAAAAHHHH!!!" I practically jump out of my chair as Reno's yelling practically bursts both my ear drums. "HOLY SHIT!!! WHAT?!? WHAT WHAT WHAAAAT?!?"

            I can feel the color draining right out of my face as I realize something. The entire restaurant is staring at us. Including Tseng and Rude, who looks like he's about to choke on his hamburger. 

            "Eeeeee…"

            "God damn, 'Lena," Reno shakes his head and pokes a finger into his ear. "And you say I'm loud? Fuck."

            "Reno," I grit my teeth and give everyone a shy wave. "What the heck are you doing here?" 

            "Funny, we all were wondering the same about you. Aren't you s'posed to be strapped to some table and being experimented on by Professor Fuckhead right now?"

            He just *had* to mention the professor at a time like this. "Reno…. Grrrahh… I'm here because I'm on lunch. And for the last time it's Professor HOJO!"

            "Hey. Hojo. Smojo. Blow-Joe. Whatever. Point is, we don't see you here at this timea day too often."

            "Oh please. Like you guys ever have time to get away for lunch, either." But now that he mentions it... "Hey… Reno."

            "What what what whaaaat?!" He winks and sticks his tongue out at me. Arrgh. Why does he always have to be so stupid and annoying?!

            "Hey, quit mocking me! Why are you guys eating out today?"

            He shoves his hands in his pocket and rolls his eyes at me. "Can't a buncha Turks eat outside the cafeteria without the whole world freaking out about it?"

            I shake my head. God, he's so exasperating! "That's not what I meant! I mean…" And then it dawns on me. Like that light bulb that appears over the coyote's head in cartoons when he gets a bright idea or clues into something. I just blink and staaaaare at Reno, who's grinning and pointing at his blue suit. His dark blue… Turks… suit. 

…

A quick glance over at the counter shows me that Rude's wearing exactly the same thing. Only his looks like he didn't sleep in it. 

Holy shit….

"You mean…?"

Reno nods.

"You and Rude…?"

He nods again. 

"Oh… RENO!!" And then I'm grinning and hugging him like an idiot.

"Hey, hey woah! WOAH!" But he chuckles and pats my hair. "Don't get all mushy now. We Turks have a reputation to keep up."

"Reputation, my ass!" I pull back and smooth his hair out. "Hey, Reno… that's just so…"

I feel Rude's hand on my shoulder. "'S pretty incredible, isn't it? Even Tseng didn't know Heidegger was planning on it." He wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head on my shoulder. "Then again, Heidegger's pretty impossible to figure out." 

"Ahh, hell with Heidegger!" Reno slaps his hand down on the counter top. "Hey, barkeep…"

"Lord, don't say it," Tseng whimpers from somewhere behind us. I don't even have to look to know he's got his head in his hands.

"Baaaarkeep…" Reno says the word as if it were a personal challenge to Tseng.

"….Reno, must I remind you it's only twelve-thirty in the afternoon?" Reno shoots Rude a dirty look and I feel his chuckle rumbling against my back. "…but when has that ever stopped us?"

"Tseng?" Reno gives his boss a smirk. "'Cmon, live a little, Wing Nut. We don't gotta be back at work for a few hours."

"Alright, alright," Tseng grumbles. Awww. He's such a cutie when he's upset. Makes me just wanna walk right over there and pinch his cheeks! "But only one, Larson. Is that understood?!"

"Oh, sir yes sir!" Reno fake-salutes and then slaps his hand down on the bar. "Yo, Barkeep! Drinks for everyone!"

"What the --?!" Tseng's voice sounds real loud in the silence that follows. "And just who do you think will pay for that, Reno?!"

Uh-oh. Reno's smirking like he does right when someone's about to catch hell. "Easy, jeffe. Because you're gonna pay for it."

Rude and I both turn at the same time to see Tseng's reaction. His left eye kind of twitches, and I know I see a few beads of sweat slide down his forehead. "Reno…"

"Well, I sure as hell don't got that much Gil. Think they paid me 'n' Rude just for being promoted?" Reno chuckles and rolls his eyes. "Oh, jefe, jefe, jefe, jef-fe. That ain't how Heidegger works. You of all people outta know that." His smirk only gets wider as he saunters over to Tseng. "'Sides. They watch ya like a hawk here when you offer to buy a round. No getting out unless you do. Unless, of course, you wanna blow our cover and pull out a can of Turk whoop-ass."

Tseng just slaps his hand down on the bar so hard a bowl of pretzels next to him literally jumps up. "I'll be paying," he grumbles to the bar tender as he shoots Reno a nasty look. "But this is coming out of your salary, Larson."

"Larson?! What the fuck, Tseng?! We've been friends for, what, over a year now and I get a promotion and suddenly I'm just my last name to you?!?"

"Larson, lower your voice. You've made enough of a spectacle of yourself today."

"Spectacle?!"

Rude chuckles again and hugs me a bit closer. "They've been going like this all day. Reno thinks it's the Alpha Male in them both. I think Tseng's just finally become one of our gant. You gonna drink with us, 'Lena?"

"Hell, yeah!" I turn my head back to grin at Rude as Reno and Tseng begin arguing full force. Oh yeah. I think I buy that whole Alpha Male line. "Midori sour, just like always."

"Such a girl!" Reno pulls out of his argument to shout at me. I stick my tongue out at him as I detangle myself from Rude's arms.

"Yeah, and don't you forget it either! Or next time I'll just let your bike sit there and rust. The hell you do to it anyway? Run over it with a truck?"

"That's classified information!" Reno shouts. I make a face. He makes one back and tries to punch my arm. 

"Oww! Christ, 'Lena! That's one helluva right hook you're packing these days! You learn that from fighting Professor Cornhole off or something?"

"Reno, dammit, don't call him that! The man's name is –"

Professor Hojo.

…. Professor Hojo.

…. It's twelve forty-five.

….I was supposed to be back at work almost an hour ago.

…..Obviously, I'm not back at work now.

"Eeeeeeeeee…."

"Huh? The guy's first name is E? E what? Eliot? Erwin? E-gor? Oi, 'Lena? The hell you running off too?"

"Sorry, don't have time to explain! I'm late to work!"

"Huh?"

"I'MLATETOWORK!!!" And I'm off like a shot then, despite Reno's attempts to call me back 'cause "Your Midori's ready, wing nut!"

But I don't have time to think about Midoris now! I'm so late! I'm so late! Eeeeeeee! I'm so so *so* dead!!! I jump down the last flight of stairs or so and pelt out of the mall. Good thing I never wear heels or I'd have a broken ankle to deal with on top of everything right now.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god!! I'm so dead!! When Hojo says you take an hour lunch he really *means* you take an hour lunch! I saw him yell at this technician once who came in like five minutes late from lunch. And that technician wasn't there the next day! I know because I had to type up his pink slip myself! Oh my god oh my god!

I push past a girl in a pink dress selling flowers. In fact, I probably knocked her over. And while that's bad and stuff, I just don't have time to help her get up right now! Okay okay… I have about five minutes running like this to get back to Shinra, Inc. Another three up the stairs. Oh god! It'll be one pm before I get back! Alright, brain. Think. Okay, I need an excuse… I need a damned good excuse because I'm not gonna have my entire chances of actually going somewhere in Shinra ruined just 'cause I made some stupid little mistake that a guy like Palmer wouldn't even notice! Arrrgh! I can't think about that right now! Okay okay… I know! I'll throw myself down the stairs over there and break my leg! Yes! Perfect! Then he'll have to understand because…eeee, no! I can't do that! That's crazy! Okay something preferably non-life or limb threatening! Uh… um… my mother died? No. She's been dead for years and he knows it. My… great uncle Dio? No! That won't work either! Uhm… okay okay…I got kidnapped by a guy riding a bicycle that looked like a chocobo –

URGH!! None of those will work!

Alright. I got it! And this is perfect! I'm late because – because I got lost on my way to find his croissant! Yes! That's it! I wanted to get him a special croissant because I know he eats at the cafeteria every day, so I went out to find a bakery and couldn't find it and got turned around and –

Hey, if I was doing something nice for him, and something that he asked me to, he can't be too harsh, right? And I can take him cutting my paycheck (ouch, I know, but still…). But I just have to keep my job here!

The elevator takes forever to get me back to the 68th floor. But I guess that's a good thing. I can perfect my story on the way up. As the doors ding open on my stop, I've smoothed the whole thing out like so:

I got lost on the way to the bakery. 

Yeah, just that. Hojo doesn't like long, really drawn-out excuses. And it'd probably just sound all fake, anyway, if I tried to make it any more complicated than that.

I come running into the office at full speed, half expecting to find my boss leaning over my desk and scowling at me. But I'm fully surprised to find that the room is empty. I check the clock. One oh three. 

…

'Kay, that's… strange. Unless he's waiting in his office to pounce on me the second I sit down!! Uh-oh… what should I do? Just stand here? Should I call back and tell him the story or should I do it in person? I know his rule about not being bothered but… but doing this over the phone just seems so…

And it's about then that something makes up my mind.

I hear giggling coming out of Hojo's office. And not his giggling, although he giggles to himself sometimes in there. I should know. I'm usually out here when he does. But this can't be his voice. It's too high. It's too loud.

And I've never heard Hojo go "Kyahahahahaha!" before.

Kyahahahaha… where've I heard that before?

Well, at least someone's in there with him. So maybe I'll just go in. I mean, he can't murder me in front of another person, right?

I slowly push open the door. "Professor Hojo, I'm so sorry!" I blurt out as I enter. Yeah. That's it. Gotta show him how sorry I am right up front. Maybe then he'll go easier on me. "But I was looking for your lunch and I got –"

My heart absolutely freezes at what I see then.

Oh shit. I have so picked the wrong time!

My boss is currently standing in the middle of the room looking rumpled and thoroughly pissed off at me. And I now know who the 'kyahaha' person was, too. She's currently wearing nothing but stockings and a teddy the color of her name: Red.

Urrgh. Wait. Scarlet. I meant to say Scarlet. I'm just so mixed up right now.

"Kyahaha! Simon, you didn't tell me you had a new secretary!" Scarlet cackles as she slinks her way over to me. 

"She never came up," Hojo says as he straightens his tie. Oh god. If he wasn't gonna kill me already…

I can't help but blush as Scarlet slides a finger under my chin and tilts my head up. Wow. Talk about cleavage you could ski down! "You're very pretty, dear," she coos. "What is your name?"

Somehow I manage to squeak out an "Elena Marshall."

"Well, I am sorry to disturb your work, Elena Marshall. Simon and I were just conducting a little business…isn't that right, Simon?"

My boss is too busy buttoning his lab coat up to comment right now, so Scarlet just turns back to me. "Can you hand me my dress, please? It's on the…" she gestures up and gives me this secretive little smile. Oh yeah. I see where the dress is. And I so don't even wanna know how it got to swinging around on the fan.

"Uh… I'll get a chair." Oh, brilliant, Elena! She probably thinks you're an idiot now. And the fact that I clock my knee against the chair as I climb up into it doesn't make things any better. Scarlet just stands there, hands on hips as I reach up and snag the dress from the ceiling fan. Hojo just busies himself with tiding up his already ultra-tidy desk. Yeah. I passed wanting to sink through the floor and die a long time ago.

"Mmh, thank you," Scarlet says as she takes the dress from me. She shimmies into it slowly and pulls both straps up over her shoulders. And then she turns around. "Would you be a dear and zip me up, Elena?"

"Um… okay," and feeling like the world's biggest freak, I get off the chair and do as she asks. But jeeze! The slits on her dress are so high that I wonder why she even bothers. The teddy almost covered more. The zipper catches a bit on some of the lace, but finally I manage to get it all the way up. And when I'm done, Scarlet turns around and smiles. 

"I'd better be going now, Simon. The Weapons Department calls," she offers me a gloved hand. "It was so nice to meet you, Ms. Marshall."  
  


"Uh… yeah. You too." I take her hand and give it a shake. It smells like violets. And my boss.

Scarlet 'Kyahahas' again as she slings her red purse over her shoulder and opens the door to my office. "Oh, and Simon? I'll see you tonight, hmm?"

"Good bye, Scarlet." Eeeee… not a pleasant goodbye, either. I bet he's not happy with…

Wait a second.

Did she say "I'll see you tonight"?!?!? Ohhhh! That little sh—wait. What am I saying?! Hojo is my boss. And I don't care who or what he's sleeping around with. No. Not at all. Even if I happen to walk in on them doing worse next time. Not even if I end up seeing her tied to his desk, and covered in whipped cream with strawberries where her nipples should be. Not even if I see my boss…

Urgh! Why is this bugging me?? I knew a guy like Hojo, I mean a guy who's that smart and sophisticated and… well, it makes sense for him to have a mistress, right? But… damn it! At least he could have told me or something! I mean I am his secretary, right?? What if he'd had an appointment or – or worse! What if President Shinra had just walked on in and demanded to see him?! How do you think it would have looked if I'd called back into his office only to hear Scarlet moaning all over the loud speaker? Well, okay. So Shinra wouldn't have seen it but still! It leaves a bad impression, okay? And I don't want my boss getting himself into trouble because –

"Elena."

"Eee! Yes?" Oh. Right. I have to deal with this whole being late thing now. God, this is so not my day! 

"When you came into the room, I believe you were trying to tell me something?" He has… oh god! He has a LIPSTICK stain on his collar! I'm just gonna ignore it… I'm ignoring it… la la la la la… this is me IGNORING it! "Uh… yeah… it was…well…I'm late because…because…" And there's one on his face too! Oh my god! Oh my god! I'm… and the way she just… like he was just some conquest or thing or… or….  "Because I…"

"Because?" He prompts me.

"I…" And then suddenly I'm crying. Just like that, I start crying. And nothing I say makes any sense. Dimly, it sounds to me like I just told him I was abducted by a croissant that took me to the mall to buy a flower girl. And that – that makes no fucking sense at all but… but I just can't stop crying…

"Elena," I nearly eep through my tears as Hojo slides an arm around my shoulder and gently pillows my head against his chest. I – ooooookay. Now I'm really blushing. Blushing and crying and he's… slowly, he begins rocking us back and forth. Back and forth. And then he slides his hand over my hair.

"Shh… it's perfectly alright, Ms. Marshall." 

Huh?! Did he just say what I think he did? I try to ask him this, but somehow it just comes out as "Mughhhgllbubb?"

"I understand completely," Hojo whispers as he pats my shoulder. "You simply lost track of the time. It's alright. Things like that happen sometimes. And while I prefer them to happen infrequently, I would hardly discipline you for one minor mistake in five months of otherwise exemplary work."

"Ex—exemplary?" I choke.

"Yes. Exemplary," I can feel his heart beating. It's stately, elegant, just like him. And his breath kind of tickles my ear when he speaks. It's… nice. And for a moment, I almost forget he has a girlfriend. "Ms. Marshall, you are, without a doubt, the best secretary I have ever employed, if not one of the best employees I have ever had." 

I blush. He can't really mean that… can he? "R—really?"

"Indeed, Ms. Marshall, I am not a man to praise lightly," He pats my shoulder again and then slides away from me. "Now, why don't you take a moment before returning to the office, hmm? Go get a drink of water, maybe some coffee, and take a few deep breaths before settling down again."

I can't believe it! Here I thought he was gonna kill me… or feed me to that dog-thingy of his that he keeps in the other room. Urgh. Stop it, Elena! He's not that kinda guy! 

"Okay," I nod and rub my hand across my nose.

"Here," Hojo winces and hands me a tissue. "I believe you will find this to be more effective than your wrist, Ms. Marshall."

"Thanks," I blush even darker, if that was possible, and blow my nose in what I hope is a delicate manner. "So, I'll just…"

He nods and pushes his glasses up his nose. "Yes. Go get a drink. Sit down. Breathe deeply. And then get back to work."

"Okay," I almost trip as I begin backing towards the door. I can't stop looking at him… at this guy that… I mean, wow. He just hugged me. Professor Hojo just *hugged* me! I didn't know he did stuff like that…

Well, at least I didn't until I saw Scarlet in here.

Ugh. Okay, I'm so not gonna think about her right now or I'll start crying again. I'm just gonna wave good bye to my boss (who's waving and smiling back at me), turn around, go into my office, close the door and…

"EEEEEE…"

Hojo. Just. Hugged. Me.

And he smelled like…

Grrr. Like Scarlet's ugly old violets. Ugh! Okay, I'm gonna drink some coffee, put on my head phones and…

And then I notice it again. The little starving plant up on the cupboard. The one I haven't seen or thought about in months. Huh. Apparently no one else thought of it either, because it's still up there and still looking brown and unhappy. 

"Hey there," if I stand up on my tip-toes I can just reach it. And after a few tries, I actually manage to pull the little thing down. "Long time no see," I'm talking to a plant. Huh. Oh well. Like this day hasn't been surreal enough already. I tap its soil with my index finger and come up with a dried clump of the stuff under my nail. Okay. That's not good. But strangely enough, the little plant still seems to be alive.

"Why don't you come over and sit on my desk?" I ask it as I walk across the room. Ahh. If I just push the pictures of the guys to the right a little… yeah. There we go. I put the plant down right between the picture of me, Reno and Rude that got taken on Reno's twentieth birthday and the stuffed bear Tseng gave me. The first thing I'm gonna do is give it a little water. I steal some from the coffee maker and gently pour it from my mug into the dried and cracking soil. Wow, is that actual dust I see? Gosh, I wonder who owned this thing, and why they felt it was okay to just wander off and leave it here for no one to look after. "Here you go… drink up," I tell it. And when the water is gone, I sit back down and turn my computer on again. But I don't get a lot of work done for the rest of the day. I keep thinking of smelly Scarlet and Hojo… and sometimes I could swear I could hear my new plant drinking.

~*~

I am so gonna kill Reno.

Here it is, half an hour after work gets out and the jerk isn't here to pick me up yet!! Ahrgh! I bet I know where he is, too. Him and Rude probably took off for some bar to celebrate getting promoted. And meanwhile, I get to stand out here in the rain waiting for… what? A bus? A ride from a complete stranger? Or the guts to just say "stuff it", walk the fifty blocks to my apartment, pick up the phone and scream death threats into Reno's answering machine? Ugh. Well, finally I decide to do the latter, and I'm just about to walk home when a black Shinra car pulls up a few yards away from me. I lift my bangs away from my eyes and peer through the rain to see if I can make out who it is as the door opens and a tall, dark and… ohh, very handsome man steps out.

"Elena?"

"Tseng? Is that you?" Oh, you better believe it is! Me-yow! And he's not wearing his jacket today! Eeee! You can practically see the muscles rippling through that white shirt! Wow…. Muscley Tseng…mhhhhh…

"Yes. Elena, is something the matter?"

Huh? "Oh! No, nothing at all!" I laugh and hurry towards him. "Just a bad day at work, I guess. Hey, you mind if I bum a ride off you? Stupid Reno never showed up today." And on today of all days, that's especially annoying and inconsiderate and just downright… well, rude! He's so gonna regret this the next time I see him! 

Tseng nods and goes around to the other side of the car. "That's exactly why I'm here," he says as he opens the door. Wow, what a gentleman!

"Oh… thanks, I guess." And then I realize I haven't yet had enough sense to get out of the rain and scramble into the car without another word. A few seconds later, Tseng gets in on the drivers' side and closes his door.

We sit there a moment. And then Tseng leans over me and turns the heater on. "Reno and Rude are at The Chocobo and Mog with a few Shinra employees," he explains. "I'm sorry he didn't come for you, though. Party or not, that was highly inappropriate, and he will receive a reprimand from me first thing tomorrow morning."

Wow. "A public reprimand?" 

Tseng is silent for a moment. "That's terribly cruel of you, Elena," he says as he starts the engine. For a moment, my heart almost drops down into my stomach. And then I see him smile. "But I like it. You wanna be there for the reprimand?"

"Oh please!" 

Tseng gives me a full-fledged grin as we pull away. "You'd make a good Turk yourself, I can tell," he says. And then comes yet another long pause in which we both just stare at the rain as we drive. "Elena?"

"Huh?"

"I have something to ask you."

"Uhm… okay, shoot." Why does he sound a bit nervous all of a sudden?

"The party we're attending tonight is unofficial, but you probably realized that. In two weeks, Shinra is holding a sort of retirement party for the two Turks Mr. Larson and Mr. Miller are replacing."

"Um… alright."

"It is to be a very formal occasion. It will also involve dancing."

"Dancing?" Ohh… I think I'm beginning to see where this is going now…

"Yes. Dancing." Is it my imagination, or does he look just a little bit nervous? Hell, he can't possibly be as nervous as me right now! I feel like my stomach just abandoned ship (well… car, I guess). And I'm sweating like a glazed pig. 

"Uh… Tseng? Where is this going?"

"…" He sighs. "Elena, if you aren't busy two weekends from now…"

"Yes?" Yes? Yes?!

"Would you, um…"

"Yes, Tseng?"

"Elena, would you teach me how to dance?"

….

Oh.

Oh that's great, buddy. Just fucking great.

"Yeah, sure," This has been the worst day of my life. "Of course I will." No kidding. Worst day of my whole miserable life. Think my step mom's murder was bad? Well, not as bad as this. This is like, ten times as bad as that was! I'm so not joking! "Yeah, we can do that."

"Really?" Tseng looks relieved. Yeah. Relieved he doesn't have to actually, oooh, I dunno, take me to the damned dance now! "Thank you, Elena."

"Sure, don't mention it," I say as we drive off into the night.

No really, jerk face. Don't mention it at all.

(End Part Five)


End file.
